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A TOO SHORT 

VA CA TION 



/ 



LUCY LANGDON WILLIAMS 
AND EMMA V. McLOUGHLIN 
WITH FORTY-EIGHT ILLUSTRA- 
TIONS FROM THEIR OWN 
KODAK 





W$HINGT05*_ r 



PHILADELPHIA 

J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY 

l8$2 



|THB LIBRARY, 
OF CONGRESS 

WASHINGTON 



Copyright, 1892, by 

Lucy Langdon Williams 

and 

Emma V. McLoughlin. 



Printed by J. B. Lippincott Company, Philadelphia. 



<\\°\ 
^ 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 



PAGE 

Writing Home 5 

Oi'll Roar an' Cry 12 

The Chaperon 15 

Sanguinelle's Expression of Indifference . 18 

An Irish Church 33 

An Irish Road 33 

Goat's Milk an' a Drap of Poteen 35 

A Pig Fair 39 

Tom Moore's Birthplace 41 

Phoznix Park, Dublin 46 

Eileen O'Connor. . . , 50 

The Old Welsh Church, Holyhead .... 51 

The Water Tower, Chester 53 

Corner House of the " Rows," Chester . . 54 

A Chester Real- Estate Office 55 

Our Conductor 56 

Kenilworth 73 

In Honor of the Emperor 84 

From a London 'Bus 89 

"And Unaccountable," I Said . 107 

3 



4 List of Illustrations. 

PAGE 

Avenue of Silver Poplars, St. Cloud . . 114 

Gambetta's House, Ville d'Avray 116 

Marie Antoinette's Thatched Cottage . . 118 

Our Only Guide 137 

Mer de Glace 138 

Monument to Three Little Brothers . . . 148 

Chillon 150 

The Old Lime-Tree, Freiburg 153 

The Madonna Shrine, Freiburg 154 

Ogre Fountain, Bern 155 

Bernese Peasants 156 

A Bern Milk-Cart and Carrier 157 

The Lower Part of the Staubbach .... 162 

From Meyringen to the Grimsel 169 

The Grimsel Hospice 173 

The Church at Andermatt 176 

The Loving Couple on Lake Lucerne ... 181 

The Old Castle, Baden 198 

In Holland 230 

Boats at Scheveningen 233 

A Dutch Fisherman 234 

On the Beach 235 

Sanguinelle at Scheveningen 236 

Bathing Machines at Scheveningen .... 237 

The Schreyerstoren 240 

Amsterdam 242 

Houses of the Zaandam Millionaires . . . 243 

Dutch Children at Play 247 



T. 



SANGUINELLE'S buoyant tempera- 
ment enables her to sail over ob- 
stacles as readily as a ship rides the 
To my hesitating " I'm afraid we 



waves. 




cannot," she opposes her jubilant " I'm 
confident that we can !" 

2 5 



6 A Too Short Vacation. 

What to others is an experiment, in em- 
bryo, is to her vivid optimism already an 
established success. 

The other day she grew eloquent over 
the prospect of aerial navigation. 

" That it is practicable, Langely's experi- 
ments have proved. We are waiting now 
only for the air-ship to be built, and since 
aluminum " 

" They'll wait a long time," I interrupted, 
" before they'll find any one sufficiently 
foolhardy to take passage in it." 

" Not at all," she replied. " I intend to 
secure my passage — with a return ticket — 
for its first trip." 

As she thus delivered herself, she looked 
steadily into my eyes and I knew at once 
that I was to go, too. I made a nerveless 
resistance. I feebly suggested the wisdom of 
not getting a return ticket — it is agreeable 
sometimes to come back by a different 
route, and — and — " it might not be needed," 
I blurted out, actually boo-hooing at this 
melancholy possibility. But it is useless to 



A Too Short Vacation. 7 

struggle against the compelling force of 
her enthusiasm. The occasional presenti- 
ment of that dreadful expedition I am cer- 
tain to make some day chills me to the 
marrow. 

It did not surprise me, therefore, in the 
least, to find myself accompanying San- 
guinelle again to Europe, although there 
were some obstacles which challenged 
prudence as peremptorily as the air-ship 
does. For instance, — the propriety of two 
young girls travelling alone. 

Sanguinelle received this suggestion with 
a burst of mirth that disconcerted me, and 
made me almost suspect that she — but, ot 
course, that couldn't be. When she recov- 
ered, she began, — 

" No doubt you imply that because you 
have never attained to matrimony, you " 

" Not yet, you mean," I interrupted, 
stiffly. " But let us drop the subject; it is 
extremely painful to me." 

Sanguinelle was the active member ot 
the concern, the Kodak and myself the 



8 A Too Short Vacation. 

silent partners. While she transacted the 
business of the company, it was our task 
to receive impressions. After examining 
our first contributions, she seemed dis- 
couraged in spite of her constitutional 
buoyancy. She said that mine had to be 
revised and the Kodak's reversed to get at 
the truth. 

" And I want this to be an absolutely 
truthful chronicle," she said, looking an 
admonition at me, and sternly tapping the 
black box with her fingers. 



II. 

SHORTLY after getting under way, 
most of those on board became mere 
pallid bundles of misery. We, who 
always enjoy immunity from this humili- 
ating period of transition, exhibited our 
good health too aggressively, perhaps, as 
he is apt to do whose stomach behaves 
itself the first day at sea. 

When these human cocoons began to 
emerge from their wrappings, we distin- 
guished easily, first, The Personage and her 
Lorgnette. I was very unhappy after this 
combination made its appearance, and pro- 
foundly grateful for the occasions when It 
had to be carried below again by its maid. 
I am convinced that the only thing that 
enables one to stand up bravely before a 
lorgnette is the possession of another. 

9 



io A Too Short Vacation. 

Whenever the Personage turned her 
lorgnette upon us (and we were her chief 
victims), I tried to assume an expression of 
serene and haughty indifference, but felt 
like a poor little worm under a microscope, 
and usually sought the shelter of a remote 
corner of the deck behind Sanguinelle. 

She never wilts. 

" Maybe she disapproves of our hoods," 
I tremulously suggest. Now, a black silk 
hood edged with black fur sounds aestheti- 
cally possible. I knew very early in our 
journey that it was a tear-compelling fail- 
ure. I think one might have been tolerated, 
but we had committed a double atrocity. 

To propitiate our Personage, I put mine 
aside and donned the more usual small cap. 
Relentless ! Unappeasable ! 

One day the decks were slippery, the 
boat was tossing ; the maid was below ; the 
Personage essayed a few steps alone, — she 
broke her nose. 

Then became visible the demure young 
lady whose mother remains accommo- 



A Too Short Vacation. 1 1 

datingly ill in her state-room during the 
voyage, while her daughter carries on a 
serious flirtation with a German baron, in 
the result of which we all took a live 
interest. 

The ardor of his sentiments was fast 
making him " too full for utterance" in his 
stumbling English, and he tried to help his 
poor, faltering tongue by frequent reference 
to a small, red pocket dictionary. 

The tender affair came to a sudden end, 
and every one was conjecturing why. San- 
guinelle, strolling in their vicinity, had 
heard him murmur lovingly, " Ah, Frau- 
lein, you haf sooch a beautiful hide !" We 
all wondered if that had anything to do 
with it. 

A little Irish girl, returning home from a 
visit to Fred and Sister Mary in Brooklyn, 
was our neighbor at the table. I wish that 
we could have photographed her brogue, 
" Oi du," and her delightful confidence in 
our intimate acquaintance with Fred and 
Mary and all the babies, Onty Lou, Cousin 



12 



A Too Short Vacation. 



Helen, Mr. Herbert, and all the rest of 
them. 

She had some fears that she might not 
be met at the landing by her father. " An' 

if he do not, 
now, oi'll be 
that mahd, oi'll 
roar an' cry, 
just." 

She imparted 
to us the fol- 
lowing startling 
proof of hered- 
ity:- 

" In aich gin- 
iration wan of 
the family meets her fate crossin' the At- 
lantic. 

" Me gran'mother met gran'father on a 
voyage to America. Onty Lou met Oncle 
James in the same way, and Fred proposed 
to me sister Mary after makin' her acquain- 
tance on board wan of the Atlantic steam- 
ers." 




A Too Short Vacation. 13 

She told us that the next time we saw 
her she might be Lady Grace and her 
father the Airl of G. " But it is not likela, 
there are so manny in bitwain ; but wance 
there was only wan. And now there are 
so manny we are tired o' countin'." 

Our neighbor to the left, a slender young 
woman with a mournful, far-away look in 
her eyes, had interested us from the be- 
ginning. We had formed conjectures as 
to the cause of that pathetic expression. 
Sanguinelle, who had grown quite enthu- 
siastic over her, said that she looked as 
if she were " hungering for the infinite." 
That proved to be just what ailed her, as 
we discovered at dinner-time, when for one 
" fashioned so slenderly" her achievements 
bordered very closely on the marvellous. 

The Dyspeptic opposite watched her 
with curiosity and amazement. He, poor 
man, was evidently allowed nothing for 
dinner but boiled rice. When she pro- 
ceeded to finish a hearty meal with small 
pastry, plum pudding, ice-cream, vol an 



14 A Too Short Vacation. 

vent of pears, nuts, a cup of coffee, and 
Gorgonzola cheese, he left in disgust for 
the nearest port-hole. We could easily tell 
when some unusual performance was going 
on on our left by his absorbed counte- 
nance. Once when a look of horror was 
followed by his precipitate departure, I 
turned to detect her in the act of devour- 
ing prunes and rice with such avidity that 
she was obliged to use the fingers of her 
left hand as a push-piece ! You remember 
the tale of the American girl whose low 
social grade was determined by the fact 
that she swallowed her push-piece, so you 
can easily imagine our relief when we 
realized that, at the worst, she could only 
carry hers to her rosy lips. 

Towards the end of the voyage he 
seemed to regard her gastronomic antics 
with more toleration, and even offered sac- 
rifice in the shape of a glass of champagne, 
and watched with admiration the disappear- 
ance of the delicious fluid down her del- 
icate throat 



A Too Short Vacation. 



15 



M 




The Chaperon was on board with her 
charges — young and otherwise. She was 
the embodiment of cut-and-dried conven- 
tionalities. How deep one would have to 
probe to discover the living woman under 
this mass of artificiality and pedantic pru- 
dery ! I wonder if she ever found herself 
out! 

Occasionally she was seized with an art- 
less enthusiasm, — for the benefit of the 
Dear Girls and effectually to silence her 
rival, — for there were two of them. 



1 6 A Too Short Vacation. 

About Wordsworth now, and the Eng- 
lish Lakes — 

No. I (with girlish fervor). I love my 
Wordsworth always — always ! But to read 
him when my soul is drinking in the 
delicious scenery of the English Lakes is 
rapture ! Dear girls (archly), perhaps I 
may not be able to tear myself away from 
that delightful region, and take up our 
travels anew. Then what will you do ? 

The Dear Girls look meekly apprehen- 
sive, and then bend their pretty heads to 
meditate upon the possibility presented to 
them. One saucy one, who pinched her 
neighbor's arm and made a wry face, 
seemed quite capable of continuing her 
journey alone, and with great satisfaction 
to herself. 

In the mean time, No. 2, with painful 
deliberation, was saying : 

" It is indeed true, — every one must have 
experienced it, — we have a nicer — I should 
say a — ah — more delicate, more — ah — sen- 
sitive appreciation of genius when we visit 



A Too Short Vacation. iy 

its home, — where it has — ah — lived and 
breathed and dreamed. It makes us rev- 
erent ; it gives to one's thoughts an up- 
ward impulse " 

Here the Dear Girls and every one else 
took an upward impulse at the shout from 
the deck, " A whale ! A whale !" 

Sunday we attended divine service,— 
and, we hope, bolstered up our tottering 
reputation. A very young man and a 
venerable negro conducted the service. 
The former made the sign of the cross 
before beginning his sermon in a way that 
would have " knocked Pat spacheless." He 
seemed ill at ease in the act, and glanced 
around furtively, as if apprehensive of dis- 
approval. In the evening we were wick- 
edly decoyed into attending another service 
by the promise of a solo from " A sweet 
singer of Washington." Instead, we had a 
discourse from a gentleman whose theory 
was evidently to divest religion of its 
gloom. He frequently interspersed his 
remarks with " Bless God for that !" with 



1 8 A Too Short Vacation. 

the airy grace of an elephant and a smile 
on his face like that of the famous Cheshire 
feline. 

Of course there was a concert at the end 
for the benefit of the Seamen's Orphans' 
Home, which ought to be a very pros- 
perous institution, if it gets all that is con- 
tributed to it. The feature of the evening 
was a comic song, which seemed to be 
good enough for the rest of the company. 
Sanguinelle sat so far back that she did 
not think it necessary to smile. She says 
that she assumed an expression of indif- 
ference. This is what the Kodak said : 




A Too Short Vacation. 19 

As an example of the effrontery of 
some people at sea, the following will 
serve : While sitting in the companion- 
way, I saw a woman struggling into an 
ulster that looked strangely like mine. 
The farther she got into it, the more 
striking was the resemblance. While my 
eyes were painfully bulging out of my 
head with astonishment, she came to me 
and said, sweetly, " Is this your garment ? 
I wanted to take a little walk on the deck, 
and one feels as if one were at liberty to 
take up anything at hand." 

I tried to throw polite indifference into 
my countenance as I assured her that she 
was welcome to it for a short time. For 
two hours that woman promenaded the 
deck in my coat, while I, impatient of 
waiting, started for a walk, shivering under 
what Mother calls a miserable " skigwag" 
of a cape ! We passed and repassed each 
other. I looked at her appealingly; I 
shivered, and my teeth chattered audi- 
bly as she approached. But all in vain. 



20 A Too Short Vacation. 

Finally I said, humbly, while my blue lips 
trembled as if I had an ague fit, — 
" Please, lady, give me my coat." 
" Oh, was it from you that I borrowed 
the ulster ?" she replied. " Thanks, aw- 
fully." 






III. 

LATER than we had expected, — a disaster 
j attributed by the officers to American 
coal and the intense heat of two days, 
which prevented the fireman from working, 
— we reached the coast of Ireland. 

When we left the tender at Queenstown 
there was a shower of sarcastic remarks 
following those who ventured to carry even 
a small satchel ashore. 

" Oh, ye would save yer fee, would ye?" 
We asked a sturdy dwarf to carry our 
bag, but he was already loaded up, and, as 
we were in a hurry to catch the boat, we 
carried it ourselves into the Custom-House. 
" Any wine or spirits ?" the officer asked, 
with a searching look. 
" A flask only." 
" Or perfumery ?" 

3 21 



22 A Too Short Vacation. 

" No." 

" Or ammunition, or firearms ?" 

" No." 

" Or tobacco, or cigars ?" 

" No." 

- Then, with the most cursory look, he 
affixed the yellow stamp which set us free, 
just too late for the boat that connected 
with the train at Blackrock. It was almost 
an hour before the next went, too. If 
we had not been fearfully hungry, it 
would not have been unpleasant. Queens- 
town looked charming with its background 
of a green hill, somewhat Montreal fashion. 
There were boat-races going on, and crowds 
to witness them, — the soldiers with their 
brilliant scarlet coats, men, women, and 
children, — all chattering in the richest and 
broadest brogue that we had ever dreamed 
of. It was hot and my head ached. Our 
Irish girl's remedy for overwrought nerves 
occurred to me, and I sat down to roar and 
cry. Strange to say, my headache disap- 
peared, my hunger was stilled, the water 



A Too Short Vacation. 23 

was blue, and the people gay. So great 
was my relief that I have determined to 
weep now whenever anything goes wrong. 

The ride up the river was delightful. 
We looked at the people with much more 
curiosity than they regarded us, an un- 
usual state of affairs, which we did not 
know whether to attribute to the natural 
politeness of the natives or to our own un- 
obtrusiveness. 

Prudentia and I made a mutual confes- 
sion which rather amused us. It happened 
as we were steaming into Queenstown 
harbor, we passed a sailing vessel carrying 
the American flag. One of the party, the 
" Bless-God-For-That" man, proposed three 
cheers, and had hardly gotten the words 
out before the hearty hurrahs sounded. I 
had not felt in the least touched at the time, 
but when Prudentia said, — 

" Look, that big man is brushing away 
the tears from his eyes just at the sight of 
the flag !" I turned away to hide the quick 
tears in my own, and it seems that Pru- 



24 A Too Short Vacation. 

dentia did the same, though neither of us 
can tell why we wept. 

Arrived in Cork, I insisted that we should 
get our lunch away from the hotel, because 
it would be cheaper. Prudentia said that 
the coffee might have been better, and so it 
might, but there were unexplored potenti- 
alities in the hotel coffee, as we discovered 
the next morning. After lunch, warned by 
passing showers, we pinned up our gowns, 
donned mackintoshes and rubbers, to search 

for 

" The sweet bells of Shandon, 

Which sound so grand on 
The pleasant waters of the river Lee." 

By the combined efforts of various 
women, sturdy and vigorous, robed in 
knee-high dresses, with long, loose-hooded 
cloaks, — a baby somewhere in its folds, — 
and stockingless, often shoeless, feet, we 
reached Shandon at a quarter of six, just 
in time to hear the chimes, which are placed 
in a fantastic steeple looking as if it were 
built in stories. At its base rests the body 



A Too Short Vacation. 25 

of Father Prout. The church seems to be 
unknown by its proper name, St. Ann, 
though everyone brightened when we added 
" Shandon." 

The women of Cork, and the men, too, 
are really fine-looking, with aquiline noses, 
bright eyes, and magnificent hair. They 
looked clean and hearty, and we saw no 
signs of awful poverty or filth. 

Throughout Southern Ireland, however, 
the thatched cottages are wretched dwell- 
ings. In the most squalid, for even this 
misery has grades, the single room with its 
mud floor is the living-room of the family, 
and the " drawing-room" of the pig. 

There is a better kind which has a second 
apartment containing a neat bed, a table 
with books, some colored prints on the 
wall, and shelves with a few china cups and 
saucers thereon. 

If you make a visit, these are quickly 
taken down and spread on a white cloth, 
the ubiquitous pot of tea is brewed, and 
you are served with a simple hospitality 



26 A Too Short Vacation. 

which is not marred by vulgar apologies, 
and which, therefore, indirectly pays you 
the compliment of supposing that you have 
sufficient nobility to ignore the very humble 
condition of your entertainers. 

They hope to see the lady's bonny face 
soon again, and " Johnny, can't ye run out 
and pick a nosegay for the lady ?" For 
both flowers and children flourish amid all 
this poverty, in an amazing fashion. Every 
cottage seemed overflowing with curly- 
headed, rosy-cheeked youngsters. We saw 
no instances of the diseases of the skin and 
eyes which Dr. Wood described. 

We drove out to Blarney in a jaunting- 
car, and were so fortunate as to have a 
dear, patriotic old Irishman for a driver. 
His face lighted up when he told us, — 

" An' shure, miss, it is the wholesomest 
country in the wurrld." 

Still, we could not get him to say a word 
about evictions, though we asked him vari- 
ous leading questions suggested by aban- 
doned cottages, the thatch completely 



A Too Short Vacation. 27 

gone, which we fancied might have been 
torn off by the evicted. 

" There is a stone there 
That whoever kisses, — 
Oh, he never misses 
To grow eloquent." 

Blarney Castle is a really magnificent 
ruin built by the MacCarthys, who seem 
to be the elite of county Cork. The dun- 
geons are not more than five feet square 
and six high. They are lighted by the 
merest line of a window, and are much 
more dreadful than anything that we saw 
in Germany. We climbed to the very top, 
and kissed the real Blarney-stone, for, 
though the guide-book says that there is 
a second one equally efficacious and more 
accessible, it was not shown to us, perhaps 
because since the poor man fell to the 
ground, head foremost, eighteen months 
ago, they have put up a grating to prevent 
accidents, and the process, which does not 
now necessitate a friend to hold you by 



28 A Too Short Vacation. 

the heels, though not less disagreeable, is 
safer. 

The Dean was buried from the beautiful 
cathedral of St. Fin Bar, which he had 
been very active in bringing to completion, 
the day we left for Bantry. In consequence 
our train was thronged with clergymen 
returning from the funeral. The only 
other person in our compartment was a 
very old clergyman, with one of his upper 
false teeth knocked out, in whom we were 
quite interested at first when he told us 
that he read our magazines, and named 
Harper s, the Century, the Atlantic, and 
Scribner's ; but he became very tiresome 
after awhile, and must have been in his 
dotage, I think, for immediately after mak- 
ing a remark his lips moved until he said 
something else. Whether he was rehears- 
ing or repeating, we could not make out. 
He insisted upon giving us an orange, 
which he bought from a fine-looking old 
woman at a small station. He had patron- 
ized her for twenty-five years, he said. In 



A Too Short Vacation. 29 

the midst of his enthusiastic history, and 
before he had paid her, the train started, 
and the guard had to shove him into our 
unwilling arms, head foremost. 

At Bantry we took the coach and drove 
to Glengariff through a beautiful country. 
The road follows the windings of Bantry 
Bay, filled with islands, on one of which 
(Whiddy) there is a real castle, an O'Sul- 
livan ruin, and an equally picturesque, 
castle-like tower. The indentations are 
such that the bay does not seem like an 
arm of the sea at all, but like a lake, sur- 
rounded by rows after, rows of mountains. 
Except for the continual view of the water, 
the scenery is like, and is not more beauti- 
ful than, that of my own Vermont, but the 
vegetation is infinitely more luxuriant. 
Even in winter it must be very green, 
there is so much pine, cedar, yew, laurel, 
arbutus, and holly. Fuchsia is here almost 
a tree, and grows wild. 

Our honeysuckle, sweet alyssum, gar- 
den forget-me-nots, and ice-plant grow 



30 A Too Short Vacation. 

uncultivated everywhere, besides heather 
and quantities of flowers whose names I 
do not know. And such roses ! A " rose- 
embowered cottage" is literally true here. 

Glengariff means, in Irish, Glengruff, — 
like our word gruff, — gariff. It is indeed 
wild, and when the rain falls in torrents on 
a gray sea, dismal in the extreme ; but the 
air is always balmy. Our companion on 
the coach, another clergyman whom we 
first took for a farmer (his wraps covered 
his clerical coat), named the mountains for 
us. He was evidently curious about us, 
and though plainly a gentleman of culture, 
yet he manifested his interest by leading 
questions, instead of the furtive looks of 
the other reverend. When at last he 
discovered that we were Americans, and 
that it was not our first trip to Europe, 
his amazement, though inward, was evi- 
dent. He thought we might be Cook's 
tourists, but when we indignantly denied 
the imputation, he seemed to surmise 
that we were eccentric heiresses in search 



A Too Short Vacation. 31 

of titled husbands. He recommended us 
to go to Eccles', not, however, with refer- 
ence to the design he mentally ascribed to 
us, but simply as a unique hotel like an 
English country-house, with old pictures, 
china, silver, and a fine library, the resort 
of lords and ladies and of those poor, 
unmarried, Honorable Misses who, though 
thirty, seem to have no ideas nor savoir 
vivre. 

Although we had not confided our family 
history to the reverend gentleman, nor 
mentioned its members to him, he inno- 
cently asked, — 

" And has your father been over, too ?" 
" He wanted to come over this year, sir, 
but business kept him home. Next sum- 
mer, perhaps, though he cannot take a 
very long vacation," I answered, with equal 
innocence, for I could see by his eyes that 
now we were being put down as extrava- 
gant Americans, spending all the money 
that our indulgent fathers could rake and 
scrape together. 



32 A Too Short Vacation. 

At Glengariff we saw the funeral of a 
little child, the son of a peasant. The 
very small coffin, covered with white, was 
carried by one of the men, followed by 
perhaps twenty others, the women and 
children with shawls over their heads, and 
long cloaks ; the men bearing spades, with 
which they dug the shallow grave, not 
more than three feet under ground. Then, 
laying the little coffin in it and covering it 
with earth, they silently departed. The 
Catholic church here is the most poverty- 
stricken affair imaginable, but, although 
in a three-mile walk one way and a ten- 
mile drive another we did not see a dozen 
houses, yet when twelve o'clock came, the 
church was packed to overflowing, a large 
number of men and women kneeling out- 
side on the wet sod. Inside, the odor was 
intolerable, like a stable. We made up 
our minds that, though the peasants looked 
clean, it was a cleanliness produced by the 
sweat of labor. Later, one of the natives 
told us that it was only the smell of peat, 



A Too Short Vacation. 




which they burn in 
their cottages, and with 
which they become thor- 
oughly impregnated. 

The picture in our 
text and the Pig Fair 
on page 39 are two of 
sixty (she took every 
defenceless thing within 
reach) which Prudentia brought back with 
her after an affecting visit to her relations. 
In the ardor of her affection for her native 
soil, she developed a pronounced brogue, 
and with that rich roll assured me, — 

" Oi think it a very nate little chapel, 
this of Capen Rush. Sure, me own mither 
was baptized there." 

The English church was attended 
mainly by visitors, soldiers 
acting as a choir and the 
plate being passed by police- 
men. 

We drove from Glengariff 
to Kenmare for dinner, and 



rf 



34 ^ Too Short Vacation. 

thence to Killarney, passing by Muck- 
ross, where there is a beautiful abbey 
and the tombs of the old chieftains, the 
ubiquitous MacCarthys and O'Donohues, 
amongst others. There was a neat and 
tidy inn there, cheap, too ; but we had 
not the moral courage to dismount before 
the Dowager Lady Allen and maid, to say 
nothing of the Hon. Miss Gascoigne Scott, 
who was also of the party. 

It is fourteen miles from Killarney to the 
Gap of Dunloe. Most of the way we were 
pursued by men on fine-looking ponies, 
who wished us to ride on them through 
the Gap. 

" Ye'll niver git betther vally fur yer 
money, mum. Only two shillings sixpence. 
The road is very wet, mum, an' toward the 
cottage, mum, the waather it do just lie in 
pools." 

" If ye say, miss, that ye could 'a gotten 
along widout, ye shall have all me labor an' 
wurrk for nathin', miss." 

" Four Oirish miles, which be aiqual to 



A Too Short Vacation. 



35 



foive an' a half English wans, sur. Won't 
ye take a pony for the ladies, surr ?" 

We remained firm, though we had some 
inward qualms, for rain had fallen with 
little intermission ever since we landed, but 
the path turned out to be very fine. We 
were followed all the way by girls and 
women, bare-legged and curly-headed, 




holding two bottles ; in the one goat's 
milk, in the other " poteen," and a tumbler 
under the inevitable shawl. They pretend 
(for, of course, they would be the last to 
tell of it, if it were true) that the whiskey 



36 A Too Short Vacation. 

is made in a private still down in the Black 
Valley, which is no darker than the other 
valleys, and owes its name to a mistransla- 
tion of the Irish for O'Duff's valley. The 
general opinion seemed to be that it was 
bought in the village and diluted with 
water. The nearest approach to the curs- 
ing for which they are so famous, if you do 
not scatter coppers, was, — 

" Ye hang on to a ha'penny an' it were 
siller." 

We might have told her that she begged 
for it as if it were gold. There was plenty 
of Blarney, though, and a great deal about 
the darling American ladies who always 
give so much to the poor. Afterwards we 
were sorry that we had not given to them 
more generously. They were no more 
persistent or numerous than the beggars 
everywhere else (except Germany, where 
they are not allowed), and they were a vast 
deal more amusing. 

Lord Brandon's cottage we did not see, 
though we had to pay a shilling to go in- 



A Too Short Vacation. 37 

side the gate. Probably it was a couple of 
miles from the gateway. I often wonder if 
these lords have seen once even the whole 
of their estates, they seem so enormous 
and so appallingly troublesome. Lady 
Kenmare keeps an alleged cottage — a care- 
taker always there — on the lake, to lunch 
in when she happens to go a-boating, which, 
perhaps, is once a leap-year. 

" The fact is, and I don't care to own it, 
they are too beautiful ; and as for a man 
coming from his desk in London and seeing 
the whole lakes in a single day, he is an ass 
for his pains. A child doing sums in addi- 
tion might as well read the multiplication- 
table and fancy he knew it by heart," said 
Thackeray. 

We rowed through the three lakes, two 
of them connected by a river five miles in 
length, to Ross Castle, a fine old ivy-covered 
ruin, the last stronghold in Ireland to sur- 
render. It is said that O'Donohue, its 
former lord, returns every seven years to 
inspect it. When he comes on the wings 



38 A Too Short Vacation. 

of the setting sun, flowers dropping before 
him, the castle is restored for the night to 
all its former glory. The boatman shows 
his footprints in the rocks and his library 
of books, " all written in the good old Irish 
tongue." Colleen Bawn's habitation was 
there, too, and Innisfallen, with its lovely 
abbey, endeared to us by Moore's poem, to 
say nothing of its near neighbor, the little 
Mouse Island, where dwell the seven white 
mice. 

It rained fearfully on the ride home. 
A scrubby Englishman in knee-breeches 
nearly burst with rage because Prudentia's 
umbrella dripped on his bride. It had to 
drip on somebody, so she took it out on 
the Dowager, who was most beautifully 
gotten up in a rubber hood. It looked 
hideous ; still we sighed for it and later got 
one. At any rate it must have been more 
becoming to ?is, for zve have no mustaches. 

At one of the smallest stations on the 
road to Dublin we witnessed a strange 
scene. A large party of peasants came 



A Too Short Vacation. 



39 



down, accompanying a strong, white- 
teethed, handsome girl, who, nevertheless, 
looked and acted like a maniac. She fell 
upon the neck of every one in the crowd 
in the wildest grief; she kissed them; 
she threw her arms up and shouted. The 
tears were streaming down their faces, and 
they kept up a sort of wild chant, which is 
known as a Caoine (pronounced " keeny"). 
This weird droning is usually sung over 




the corpse at an Irish wake. The guard 
finally lifted her into the carriage, with her 
companion, a loutish fellow, and locked the 
door. We supposed they were prisoners, 
but she was only going to America. 

Further on there were two of the famous 
" round-towers," one with a conical top, and 



40 A Too Short Vacation. 

the other turreted. Our fellow-traveller 
who pointed them out to us, and gave us 
also a York and Lancaster rose (variegated 
red and white), was a very charming woman. 
She innocently expected us to share her 
enthusiasm for her husband and children. 
She took out her children's letters, written 
beautifully in French (they are only twelve), 
told us that she had never left them before, 
and spoke with bated breath of their learned 
father. She had chosen to come on the ac- 
commodation train, because, since it did not 
go fast, it must be safer. Do you wonder 
that, down in the depths of her heart, we fan- 
cied that we must be written down "freaks?" 
She was too polite to say more than, — 

"You American ladies are so coura- 
geous !" 

Prudentia left me at Maryborough to 
visit her mother's second cousin twice re- 
moved, — I did not wish to intrude on that 
sacred meeting, and went on to Dublin. 

After establishing myself at the hotel, 
which was, after all, very pleasant, and 



A Too Short Vacation. 



4i 



beautifully situated on a park, with lake, 
band, shady walks and seats, — like many 
others sprinkled all over Dublin, I started 
for St. Patrick's Cathedral, rebuilt by Guin- 
ess, the brewer, whose statue 
— and he is a fine-looking 
man — is in the yard, intend- 
ing to drop a tear on the 
grave of Swift and Stella, 
who are buried side by 
side ; but as it was neces- 
sary to arouse the sexton, I 
resolved to delay my emo- 
tion — and the shilling— 
until Prudentia came. 
Patrick's I passed Moore's birthplace, a 
neat, three-story brown brick building, a 
wine-shop underneath, and Moore's bust, 
youthfully pink, in a niche above. 

And see the house where Moore was born, 
Though how could we ere know it ? 

Or think that it could ever be 
The birthplace of a poet ? 

For nothing that the eye can see, 
I'm sure, would ever show it ! 




Before reaching St. 



42 A Too Short Vacation. 

But, as the poet says himself, 

That sweet scents ivill keep clinging 

Around the vase that held the rose, 
So memory still is flinging 

A glamour o'er the spot from which 
Such " melodies" came springing. 

Jane Campbell. 

Christ Church is a beautiful modernized 
building, restored by Roe, another brewer. 

I rode out to Glassnevin to see O'Con- 
nell's monument, an Irish round-tower. In 
the surrounding moat lies buried his faith- 
ful and enthusiastic retainer. " Honest 
Tom Steele" is all the epitaph says, or 
needs to say. Not far off is an elaborate 
monument bearing an inscription, certainly 
explicit enough, — 

" Pray for the soul of . He left 

^"20,000 [the figures in gilt] to the charities 
of his native town." 

The Botanic Gardens were fairly near, 
and though the notice said that none but 
" respectably-attired" people would be ad- 
mitted, still, as no one was looking, I ven- 



A Too Short Vacation. 43 

tured to enter. It was very fine, — large and 
well arranged, the families growing together 
as much as possible. 

Sackville Street is quite magnificent. 
The Nationalists insist upon calling it 
something else, — O'Connell, I believe. 
O'Connell's house is a very aristocratic 
mansion in a fashionable neighborhood. I 
cannot help feeling disappointed when the 
abodes of genius are also, apparently, the 
abodes of prosperity. 

In a mad moment, we paid three pence 
each for the privilege of mounting to the 
top of Nelson's Monument for a " foine" 
view of the city. It was a dark and dis- 
mal climb ; and the higher we went, the 
lower our spirits fell. Occasionally, we 
stopped to still the beating of our hearts, 
and to ask ourselves, between our gasps, if 
we had not better give it up and return. 
But, urged by the desire to get the value 
of our money, we pushed on to the top 
heroically. Sanguinelle's heroism, how- 
ever, ended with that achievement, for 



44 A Too Sliort Vacation. 

when we stepped out upon the narrow 
platform on the summit, she nervously 
clutched my skirts and begged me not to 
be so rash as to take another step. While 
I was remonstrating with her, she imme- 
diately dropped down on the wet stones at 
the feet of the great Nelson, and wailed 
forth that she was afraid to move. For a 
time it seemed as if our European trip 
must end right there ; but she finally crept 
to the door, and we began the weary 
descent. When we found ourselves on the 
sidewalk again, Sanguinelle was so dazed 
as actually to condescend to ask to be 
directed to the 'bus that would take us 
to Phoenix Park. This was an alarming 
symptom, and shows the weak condition 
to which she was reduced, for her usual 
custom is to select an open spot on which 
the entire city can have a " foine" view of 
her, open a map of the town six feet by 
ten, study it for half an hour, make many 
mysterious gyrations to the four points 
of the compass, dart convulsively up the 



A Too Short Vacatioji. 45 

street, only to return with painful haste to 
her former post of observation. During 
the solemn process, I stand at a respectful 
distance, dart obediently when she darts, 
return in a shamefaced sort of a way when 
she returns, and glance furtively around to 
see how many small boys are watching 
our efforts to get under way. Therefore, I 
was quite alarmed at her request, which 
was answered gallantly by an Irish news- 
boy, who escorted us a few steps and 
helped us gently, on the car. Then he 
placed an evening paper insinuatingly 
under Sanguinelle's nose. She firmly 
declined to purchase it, which convinced 
me at once that she was rapidly recovering. 
But even her firmness was not equal to his. 
The paper remained in its position, and 
she finally paid a ha'penny for the privilege 
of lowering it to her knees. 

We had time for only a very short visit 
to Phoenix Park, but it was long enough 
to satisfy us that it deserved its reputation 
of being one of the beautiful parks of 



46 A Too Short Vacation. 

Europe. The day was sunny (the hour, 
rather, for we have yet to see one unclouded 
day), so we took some pictures, one of 
which illustrates the meaning of Phoenix, 
— clear water, — for the reflection of the 
trees was as bright as the real trees above 
the lake. 







We paid a visit to St. Patrick's Cathe- 
dral, now gay with flags, once used by 
Cromwell as a law-court, and by James I. 
as a stable ; and among the various tombs 
therein, stopped a few minutes by the 
grave of Dean Swift and Stella. " Cruel 
anger can no longer break the heart," he 
wrote for his own epitaph, a sentence that 



A Too Short Vacation. 47 

touched us more than what followed, " Go, 
traveller, and, if possible, emulate him who 
was a strenuous vindicator of justice." 

In one corner of the great church is St. 
Patrick's Well, with the waters of which 
he baptized his converts. The verger 
unchained the cup, let it down, and, drawing 
it up full to the brim, we devoutly drank 
therefrom. 

St. Patrick Street is little more than a 
narrow, dirty lane. It seems to be the 
chief market for old clothes, which are 
arranged in piles, either on the narrow 
sidewalks or in the middle of the road. 
Alternating with these are fish-stands and 
vegetable mounds, while the whole street 
is filled with the sounds of buying, selling, 
bargaining, the cries of children, and the 
yelping of dogs. 

We had been debating (or, rather, San- 
guinelle had not made up the company's 
mind) whether it would be more advanta- 
geous to remain in Dublin another night, 
or to go on to Holyhead, and thence in the 



48 A Too Short Vacation. 

early morning to Chester. Since the boat 
reached Holyhead a little after midnight, 
we naturally felt some concern as to where 
we should lay our weary heads for the rest 
of the night. To discover the time of 
departure of boat and train seemed to be 
a difficult matter for the clerk at Cook's 
office, to whom, having lost our Bradshaw, 
we applied; and after three visits to the 
office, the question as to whether we would 
be allowed to remain on board till morning 
was answered by another clerk, very 
glibly- 

" Oh, to be sure, miss, you may remain 
on board till morning. There is no ques- 
tion about that, at all !" 

" Well, I have been obliged to come 
three times to find it out," I replied. 

" I wish you had asked me in the first 
place," responded the ready clerk. So, 
with our minds at ease on that point, we 
packed our bag, and, after a parting strug- 
gle with the cabman, whom we expected to 
overwhelm us with thanks for our really 



A Too Short Vacation. 49 

generous fee, and who, on the contrary, 
demanded more, we stepped on board the 
" Violet," and immediately hunted up the 
stewardess, to whom we applied for berths. 
Thereupon we learned, to our dismay, that 
the boat returned to Dublin, and that, if 
we remained on board all night, we would 
wake up in " Swate ould Oireland" again, 
and, no doubt, find our irate cabman still 
swearing at us and clamoring for more. 
However, we learned that there was an 
excellent railway-hotel at the terminus ; 
and here, sure enough, we were provided 
with a delightful bed in a beautiful room, 
and we were both soon in Murphy's arms 
(adopted by the Greeks as " Morpheus"). 
We were to make the 7.45 train to Chester, 
but although called before seven, we missed 
it ! Now, / say that it was Sanguinelle's 
fault, who will scrub her face in that mer- 
ciless fashion of hers if all the trains in 
railroaddom were to be caught ; and she 
blames it on the time consumed by me in 
a private rehearsal of the part of " Eileen 



5o 



A Too Short Vacation. 



O'Connor," in the costume — or lack of it — 
of that Irish beauty whom Sanguinelle 
thinks resembles me. So we glowered at 




each other across the breakfast-table until, 
at the same moment precisely, each seemed 
to conclude to make the best of it, and our 
faces assumed a grin that rivalled Eileen's 
own. Taking a stroll through the town, we 
were rewarded by coming upon a beautiful 



A Too Short Vacation. 



5i 



old church, eight hundred years old. San- 
guinelle mounted nimbly upon the spiked 
railing that inclosed it, to get at the proper 




height for a picture. It was worth missing 
the train to carry away such a gem in our 
Kodak. 



T 



IV. 

HE ride through Wales was fine, — high, 
rugged mountains on one side, and 
the sea on the other. At Conway, 
the railroad passes right through the middle 
of a beautiful old castle, of which Hawthorne 
writes, " Nothing can have ever been so 
perfect in its own style, and for its own 
purposes, when it was first built ; and 
nothing else can be so perfect now as a 
picture of ivy-grown, peaceful ruin." 

We reached Chester about noon, taking 
lunch at a quaint, old-fashioned inn, — but 
everything here is quaint and old. We 
walked the whole circuit of the walls, took 
some views of the old Water Tower, its 
name dating from the days when the river 
Dee brought boats to it to be anchored ; 
saw Phoenix Tower, from which Charles I. 
52 




b» 



A Too Short Vacation. 53 

watched the defeat of his troops in the 
Civil War ; listened to the singing of some 
children down in 
their doorway 
and wondered at 
i t s excellence, 
due, no doubt, to 
the almost uni- 
versal teaching 

of the Tonic Sol Fa system. They san 
in parts, and the second was clear and 
beautiful. We could see, too, the Roodee, 
the famous race-course of Chester. 

The Cathedral is a magnificent building, 
but our attempts to see the interior were 
frustrated by the fact that a service was in 
progress. We devoutly walked away and 
inspected " God's Providence" house, so 
called from the inscription on it; the 
" Rows," a covered archway to the shops, 
not more odd than that of Berne, nor as 
quaint as that of Thun, though more 
celebrated than either, and other curiosi- 
ties, including two shillings' worth of ice- 
5 



54 



A Too Short Vacation. 



cream which only made us wish our money 
back again within our purses. Finally, after 
thus whiling away two hours, we returned 
to find the service still going on ! We 




thought that we might steal around the 
back part, without disturbing anybody, and 
so get a view of the main body of the 
church ; but the stern-eyed verger saw us, 
and we meekly took the seat that he indi- 
cated to us, taking the opportunity to con- 



A Too Short Vacation. 



55 




suit our watch while his back was merci- 
fully turned on us. We discovered that 
we had ten minutes left 
in which to get a glimpse 
of the interior. Perhaps 
it was our fervent, men- 
tal prayers that caused 
the preacher, at that 
identical moment, to 
stop. We took our 
way towards the main 
aisle in company with another lot of heathen 
tourists. When we arrived at the desired 
point, a verger greeted us with, — 

" Has the bahg come around, madam?" 
immediately following his query by jingling 
the bag under our eyes. In her embar- 
rassment, Sanguinelle put in a whole penny, 
then went to the graveyard and had a fit. 
With strenuous efforts on my part, she 
recovered sufficiently to look at the dear 
little devils under the stalls of the beautiful 
choir. The conductors on the cars were 
all small boys. The one who collected 



56 



A Too Short Vacation. 



our fare on the way to the station was a 
very business-like little man, fourteen years 
old, he said, and had been on the road 




over a year. We took his picture and 
gave him a tuppence, to his extreme de- 
light. 



V. 

THE Company had previously convinced 
itself that the " Falcon," in Stratford, 
was the inn that alone could cater to 
its exclusive and exacting needs, and so we 
instructed the cab to take us there. A 
glance at the house showed us darkness 
and nothing more. However, in response 
to Cabby's ring, a voice was heard, and in 
a few minutes we entered the portals. The 
host showed us into the coffee-room : the 
gas was lighted, and a pretty girl who ap- 
peared was instructed to make ready our 
room. Sanguinelle sustained the burden 
of the conversation with the proprietor, 
while we were waiting, for the long ride 
and the weary delays had put me very deep 
in the dumps, indeed ; and I was convinced 
that we had brought up now, at midnight, 

57 



58 A Too Short Vacation. 

at some strange place. This conviction 
was strengthened when I heard him ex- 
plaining that, — 

" My missus 'as gone on a short vacation 
for a few weeks. Hi don't know much 
about the 'ouse. Hi'm not hoften round." 

In reply to Sanguinelle's expression of 
admiration for the flowers that decorated 
the room, — and indeed, everything was 
beautifully clean and homelike, — he an- 
swered, — 

" Hi fahncy that they are very pretty. 
Hi'm fond of 'osses myself. Hi leave 
flowers to the ladies." 

We had just noticed that there were 
pictures of race-horses and jockeys on the 
wall, when the pretty girl announced that 
the room was ready. Once safely inside, 
and the door locked, we hastened to con- 
fide to each other our fears. We had 
each surmised that his unhappy wife must 
have left because of the pretty girl. We 
made a solemn resolution to leave early 
the next morning, and reluctantly prepared 



A Too Short Vacation. 59 

for bed. I surveyed the last, with its cur- 
tains and canopies, with suspicion, and after 
a searching examination, seized the candle, 
and pointed, with a tragic air, to a slight 
mark on the outside of the spread, which, 
to my warped judgment, seemed to indicate 
that other occupants of the bed were in 
possession. I became all over goose-flesh 
as my fancy painted how we were shortly 
to be bled. We both sat down and swal- 
lowed our tears heroically, when Sanguin- 
elle proved herself well-named by seizing 
the candle and declaring our fears without 
foundation. In proof thereof, she showed 
my gloomy eyes the fresh crease down the 
centre ! Both made an elaborate show of 
being satisfied, crept into bed, and — slept. 
For all our surmises were wrong and all 
our fears were groundless. It was a de- 
lightful inn, as we discovered the next day. 
Moreover, we had the entire place at our 
disposal. 

" What time do you have dinner ?" we 
asked. 



60 A Too Short Vacation. 

" Dinner shall be ordered for whatever 
time you fix, miss." 

We were the only guests at the inn, but 
the visitors' book showed a long list of 
notables who had enjoyed the hospitali- 
ties of the Falcon before us. One entry 
amused us greatly. Surely, only an Ameri- 
can child would dare to write, — 

" Winifred Blake and parents." 

Some one had written, too, — 

" Here oft our Shakespeare quaffed a quaff, 
Here ofttimes smoked a smoke, 
The centre of the merry laugh, 
The author of the joke." 

Which brought to our notice the painted 
statue of him in the bar-room, a fac-simile 
of the one in the church, plus pipe and 
glass, a not incongruous addition, for, as 
some one wrote in the church autograph- 
book, — 

" Stranger, to whom this monument is shown, 
Invoke the poet's curses on Malone, 
Whose meddling zeal his barb'rous taste displays, 
And daubs his tombstone, as he marred his plays." 



A Too Short Vacation. 61 

After a delicious breakfast — and we must 
particularly speak of the home-made bread 
and marmalade — we started to walk to the 
" Shottery," Anne Hathaway's cottage. It 
was the only sight open to us, in fact, for it 
was Sunday, and in Great Britain that is 
a day that may be safely reckoned on to 
interfere with all the plans of travellers. 
It was one of Sanguinelle's short distances 
(" four Oirish miles, miss, which be aiqual 
to foive English wans"). The light drizzle 
that was falling soon developed into a 
steady pour. On we trudged, our feet 
sinking almost to the ankles in the soft, 
wet earth, our hearts sinking deeper as we 
prodded ourselves along with, — 

" Brace up, now, Will Shakespeare trod 
this very path when he was going courting." 

Oh, yes, but if his feet were wet he 
probably sat in the chimney-corner and 
drank his spiced wine, while Anne dried 
his shoes by the fire. Now, it was evi- 
dent that the demure old lady who occu- 
pies the cottage to-day, and who enjoys the 



62 A Too Short Vacation. 

distinction of being Anne's Collateral De- 
scendant, proposed to do no such service 
for us. It is true that she showed us the 
Hathaway family Bible with its record. One 
ought to thrill, but with wet feet one is apt 
to chill. There was a quaint old carved 
bedstead in an upper room, but the best of 
all was the old settle in the chimney-place, 
on which the lovers sat, and which, with 
an old carved chair on the other side, makes 
this portion of the room exactly as it is 
supposed to have been when Shakespeare 
" paid attention" to Miss Hathaway. We 
begged permission to take a picture of this 
end, and asked the Collateral Descendant 
to sit in the chair to be taken. But the 
good old lady declared that she could not 
make up her mind to do it on Sunday, but 
gave her consent to our taking the room. 
After the operation, I observed, with alarm, 
that Sanguinelle made no motion to take 
out the Company's purse. I communicated 
with pleading eyes. She hesitatingly drew 
forth a shilling, and, with inward misgivings, 



A Too Short Vacation. 63 

eave it to the Collateral Descendant. That 
good old lady took it, — and it was Sunday ! 
We were compelled to walk the whole dis- 
tance back in pelting rain, — no vehicle to 
be had in that pious region on Sunday. 

We dined with our host, who, at our 
entreaty, permitted his children to come to 
the table, and his niece, who was no other 
than the pretty girl of the night before. 
Five pretty children thereupon filed into 
the room, shook hands with us smilingly, 
and then took their places at the table. 
Suddenly our host rapped his knuckles 
sharply on the table and uttered one 
word, — " Grace." 

Five little heads dropped down in a 
flash, and a chorus of little voices said 
something that Heaven understood, per- 
haps, but we did not, and the little mouths 
were ready for work. We were stunned 
at this performance ; but I, who had to 
do the polite act for the company on all 
occasions, managed, with my usual happy 
tact, to cover my surprise. Sanguinelle's 



64 A Too Short Vacation. 

jaws fell open to such a degree that only 
after a convulsive effort on her part would 
they come together, and then with a click 
that sounded through the room and caused 
our host anxiously to ask, — 

" Roast goose or roast lamb, miss ?" 
She took goose, and, with the example 
of those well-behaved children before her, 
exercised the greatest self-denial in manipu- 
lating it. Once only did she grasp the 
joint with her fingers, when the sharp rap 
of the master's knuckles caused her to 
drop it guiltily. It was simply, however, 
a gentle admonition to one of the children, 
and was immediately obeyed. I never 
saw such well-behaved and obedient chil- 
dren. It was " yes, papa," or " if you 
please, papa." They never asked for any- 
thing, but accepted what was placed before 
them. We expressed our admiration for 
their admirable training, which caused the 
father to give us his theory on the subject, — 
" You take a young vine hand you cut 
hit hand train hit, hand hit will go what- 



A Too Short Vacation. 65 

ever way you want hit ; but hif you wait 
till hit grows hup, you cahn't do nothing 
with hit. A child that does not hobey his 
a trouble to heverybody, hand a mortifica- 
tion to hits parents." 

We felt that our host's ideas were sounder 
than his English. 

In the afternoon we were admitted to 
the quaint old school where Shakespeare 
attended as a boy, and in the evening 
piously went to church, in the hope of 
seeing his bust and the spot where he is 
buried, with its famous epitaph. We had, 
as a sort of preparation for the function, 
meditated on what we should put in the 
collection-bag. Sanguinelle generously 
fixed upon a sixpence, and I, feeling that 
it was a heretic church, did wickedly hunt 
up a shining U. S. nickel that looked like 
silver, and did think that I might contrive 
to slip it in the " bahg." Now, it turned 
out to be a plate, and furthermore, we had to 
start the collection with our miserable little 
offerings, right under the eye of the rector. 



66 A Too Short Vacation. 

The oldest son of our host is a choir- 
boy, and his father permitted him to take 
supper with us, a feast not allowed the 
others. He is a very clever and interesting 
child. His attempts to explain to us about 
the school and the methods pursued there 
were as good as a play. He often sits 
where Shakespeare's desk formerly stood, 
and receives his education there free, on 
account of his services in the choir. They 
seem still to use the primitive means of 
enforcing obedience, for he explained that 
any boy who failed to obtain a certain 
standard in his work was called up and 
compelled to " touch his toes." 

The full meaning of this did not dawn 
upon us at first, until the boy explained 
that the culprit was caned. 

" Oh," exclaimed we, " the master canes 
him over the back !" 

" Not across the back," hesitated our 
truthful but modest informant, "but across 
the — a " 

Here he broke down and finished with 



A Too Short Vacation. 67 

blushes. To cover his embarrassment, we 
asked him if he had ever been made to 
touch his toes. 

" No," he replied. " But I have been 
very, very near it." 

From Stratford, we went directly to War- 
wick, searching first for " Mann's," well 
known as a cheap and comfortable place 
for lunch. The outside was sufficiently 
modest to induce us to enter, for, some 
way, much plate-glass and fine gilding 
alarms us. The maiden ladies, who suavely 
pressed ham-pies upon us, — 

" They are home-made, ladies. I am 
sure that you will find them very nice. 
They are not like store-pies," did not reas- 
sure us in the least, but the eating did. We 
called for another, and still another, then 
departed, leaving with the gentle " Misses 
Mann," as we paid our small bill, the 
conviction that their efforts in the way 
of ham-pies had been thoroughly appre- 
ciated. 

The church where Elizabeth's Dudley 



68 A Too Short Vacation. 

is buried we visited first. His effigy, the 
hands peacefully and piously folded across 
his breast, lies beside that of his third wife, 
Lettice, who has written the tender tablet 
that marks his resting-place. In the middle 
stands Robert Beauchamp's tomb, said to 
be the most beautiful — after Henry VII. 's, 
of course — in England. At one side is a 
charming little effigy of the Earl of Leices- 
ter's only legitimate child. At Warwick 
Castle we afterwards saw his tiny suit of 
armor. A little farther up the street is Lei- 
cester Hospital, a fine old half-timber, wagon- 
road building, like many others still stand- 
ing in Warwick and Stratford. The next to 
the oldest inmate took us around. We did 
not know it, however, until he showed us his 
particular patch in the garden, which he 
proudly told us was next to the master's, — 

" And twenty-three years it has taken to 
get there, miss." 

We had expected to see the brethren 
wearing their cloaks and silver buckles, but 
he explained that they only donned them 



A Too Short Vacation. 69 

for chapel, because there was no money to 
replace them if they should wear out. He 
took us up to show us his quarters, and in- 
troduced us to his wife. 

" That is my master, miss." 

She giggled delightedly, in spite of her 
sixty odd, as she told us to, 

" Listen to the impudence of him, now." 

The cloaks were of thick dark blue 
broadcloth, with beautiful large silver 
buckles, the bear and ragged staff for orna- 
mentation, eleven of them the identical ones 
given by Leicester to the original twelve 
brethren. The lost one has been replaced. 
The brethren are chosen from five towns, 
three of them being Warwick, Stratford, 
Kenilworth. They must be army men and 
have their rector's certificate of good moral 
character. He will not give it to them, 
either, unless he has known them at least 
five years. The Hospital contains many 
relics in the way of swords and guns, but 
nothing that touched us so much as poor 
Amy Robsart's half-finished embroidery, 



yo A Too Short Vacation. 

and in particular the one bearing upon it 
her lord's coat of arms, the bear and ragged 
staff. 

The brethren, or their wives, or some one 
(if one may believe the evidence of one's 
nose) now wash clothes in the little alcove 
out from the large hall where once dined 
His Most Gracious Majesty Edward VI. 

A Warwick vase stands in the grounds, 
said to have been used by the Egyptians to 
measure the rise and fall of the Nile. The 
Warwick vase at the castle is a Roman 
affair, and the elaborate ornamentation is 
beautifully carried out. The handles, for in- 
stance, are parts of the grape-vines which 
twine around the top. Lady Warwick did 
not allow us to take in our Kodak, which 
made us " mahd," for we had to pay a 
shilling to enter, to say nothing of the tup- 
pence to leave it behind. To add to our 
wrath, it was one of the few sunny days of 
our trip. The castle is as magnificently 
strong and fresh as if it had been built ten 
years ago, instead of four hundred. The 



A Too Short Vacation. yi 

grass was everywhere like the softest of 
green velvet carpets, and on it in front of the 
castle promenaded many beautiful peacocks, 
who seemed as proud as the servants of the 
treasures that they guard. The man who 
had charge inside might have been the earl 
himself in manners and appearance, but he 
used his aspirates more promiscuously. 
Two photographs of Lady Brooke were ly- 
ing around rather ostentatiously. We failed 
to see her beauty. There were many fine 
pictures, buhl tables, Marie Antoinette rel- 
ics, and the like, but the gem of all, in our 
eyes, was a charming, childish picture of 
Henry VIII. One gets surfeited with Hol- 
bein's famous portrait of him. It is so 
coarse and unpleasing, — and then so ubiq- 
uitous. Like Guido's Ecce Homo, every 
gallery has one. I always think of His 
Majesty's ugly ears when I look on Hol- 
bein's picture of him. " If you paint my 
ears, I'll cut off yours," said this gayly grim 
monarch. Thereupon, the full face was 
taken by the artist. 



72 A Too Short Vacation. 

From Warwick we journeyed to Leam- 
ington, a mild Saratoga with distinctly 
bad-tasting water. While waiting for the 
train, Prudentia asked me the price of the 
tickets. 

" Two shillings," I answered. 

Thereupon, a frisky young American, 
gotten up in a marvellous shawl costume, 
exclaimed, — 

" Two shillings ? Why, how much did 
you pay, mamma ?" 

" Only one shilling six," responded mam- 
ma, with ill-concealed triumph. 

I frigidly remarked that there was but 
one price for railway tickets, — no bargains, 
— and asked what class they were booked 
for, an unexpected turning of tables that 
they did not enjoy. The young lady petu- 
lantly asked the mother why she had bought 
third-class tickets. To which the latter in- 
nocently responded, — 

"Oh, I really don't know, dear. I just 
asked for a ticket, and he asked me if I 
wanted third-class, and I said yes." 



A Too Short Vacation. 73 

" All Americans travel third-class, you 
know," added the daughter, quite chipper 
again. 

We were disappointed in Kenilworth at 
first, but as we wandered around the old 
ruin, — for it is a ruin, though scarcely older 




than Warwick, — looking down the wells, 
finding the places where had been the 
leather curtains which protected those 
inside from arrows, Elizabeth's dressing- 
room, the magnificent banqueting-hall, and, 
above all, the places that Scott has asso- 
iated with Amy Robsart, we grew very 
fond of it. 



74 A Too Short Vacation. 

On our way to the station again, Prudentia 
condescended to notice the lintel of a cot- 
tage-door, the bear and ragged staff carved 
upon it, and then R. L. underneath, for the 
Earl of Leicester, of course. I had gone 
into raptures over it going up, but she had 
declined even to look at it until relieved of 
her luggage, her appetite appeased, and her 
mind at ease about the hotel, for which we 
had been looking for some time. 

We had only a day for Oxford, and came 
near missing that little, too, for both of us 
dropped to sleep, — we had the compartment 
to ourselves, — and only happened to wake 
up just as we got to Oxford. Pour, pour, 
pour, — but we heroically wandered down 
Old High Street, with its magnificent 
churches and colleges to the very end, 
where stands Maudlin (spelled Magdalen). 
The square tower with its six spires, and 
the beautiful grounds, are lovely enough 
to make one weep, even when the skies 
seem determined to perform that duty for 
one. 



A Too Short Vacation. 75 

: Oh, ye spires of Oxford ! domes and towers ! 
Gardens and groves ! Your presence overpowers 
The soberness of reason." 



There were more things, perhaps, to see 
at Christ's. We heard " Tom" toll, and the 
chimes of the chapel ring, went to the 
kitchen and saw Wolsey's gridiron on 
wheels, and thrilled generally and continu- 
ously, as one must at Oxford. Just after 
leaving Christ's, we went to Folly Bridge to 
see the beautiful University barges and the 
site of Friar Bacon's famous study, which 
he is said to have so contrived that if any 
wiser than he should pass underneath it 
would fall down. Hence the sarcastic ad- 
vice to new students, — Beware of Friar 
Bacon's study. 

" When first the college rolls receive his name, 
The young enthusiast quits ease for fame. 
Restless burns the fever of renown, 
Caught from the contagion of the gown, 
O'er Bodley's dome his future labors spread, 
And Bacon's mansion trembles o'er his head." 



J 6 A Too Slwrt Vacation. 

We were dead tired, and made up our 
minds not to ascend the Radcliffe Camera 
for the view, but to save our energies and 
emotions for Charles's death-warrant, Eliza- 
beth's and Edward VI. 's Latin exercises, 
and the other treasures of the Bodleian. I 
am always either exactly right or exactly 
wrong, and this time it must have been the 
latter, for the first thing that we knew we 
were on a roof, Magdalen's spire before us. 
We tried to locate other things that we had 
seen, but with small success, until it dawned 
upon our tired minds that we were on top 
of the Radcliffe, after all. It did not matter, 
for we had time enough left for the Bodleian 
and those wonderful treasures which Marat 
had tried to steal. All over were the quaint 
notices, — 

" Touch what you like with your eyes, 
but do not see with your hands." 

We arrived at the station a half-hour be- 
fore train-time, so I distributed my boxes 
and bundles around, stretched out my feet, 
and prepared to get rested, while Prudentia 



A Too Short Vacation. jj 

raced around to find something to drink 
(she was always wanting something expen- 
sive to eat or drink). All of a sudden I 
heard a breathless, — 

" Sanguinelle, it is the London train !" 
I screamed, scooped up my various pack- 
ages, knocked down several people and an 
umbrella, which Prudentia stopped to pick 
up, — nothing ever causes her to lose her 
urbanity, — and reached the train just in 
time. 



VI. 

" A mighty mass of brick and stone and shipping, 
Dirty and dusty, but as wide as eye 

Could reach 

A wilderness of steeples peeping 
On tiptoe through their sea-coal canopy ; 
A huge, dun cupola, like a foolscap crown 
On a fool's head, — and there is London town.'' 

We found at the banker's, in London, a 
card from Dean Bradley, admitting us to 
the wax effigies. Through the Islip chapel, 
whose name is the sole remaining memento 
of the good abbot, we were ushered into the 
chamber of the effigies, gorgeous with lace, 
either very life-like or very corpse-like, as 
the case might be. Most of them had been 
carried in the funeral procession, after the 
custom of exposing the body had become 
obsolete. Elizabeth was there, as ugly as 
78 



A Too Short Vacation. 79 

my early childish hatred had painted her, 
and Charles II., with his wicked black eyes 
and coarse, sensual mouth. A corpse-like 
Duke of Buckingham lay in the centre of 
the room. On the other side stood Queen 
Anne, looking quite handsome, and Wil- 
liam, whose very high heels, even, did not 
make him equal in height to Mary. Lord 
Nelson's figure, however, was made to draw 
away the great crowds from St. Paul's, in the 
crypt of which he was buried. Wellington's 
tomb is there, too, — a solid piece of por- 
phyry, like Napoleon's, — and his funeral 
car, made from cannons that he took in 
battle, his own swords and armor in front. 
A verger escorted us to the tomb, rattled off 
his little lesson, and then sent us flying back. 
We could not get in without his escort, so 
we made the best of it, but it is very un- 
pleasant to be one of a driven herd. Perhaps 
for this reason we enjoyed better reading 
(in uninstructed bliss) the great names and 
epitaphs on the flooring outside. Reynolds 
was there, and near him, as he wished to be, 



80 A Too Short Vacation. 

Turner; Lawrence, Landseer, Cruikshank, 
Opie, Wren, and Samuel Johnson keeping 
them company. 

We went to the Whispering Gallery, too, 
and were as delighted and amazed at the 
wonderful echo, as if we had not heard of it 
all our lives, and had not disdained to listen 
to it before. Then we ascended to the Stone 
Gallery, and, the day being clear, — for Lon- 
don, — there was a fine view. After all, I am 
glad that we did not go before, it is such a 
delight to see and recognize the now famil- 
iar buildings : Newgate, fallen from its high 
estate and only a temporary prison ; the 
square tower of St. Sepulchre, where the 
criminals used to hear their ante-funeral 
sermon and receive a nosegay on the way 
to the gallows, — where Roger Ascham lies 
buried, and our own John Smith. Only the 
first line of his epitaph could we make out, 
perhaps because that was the only line that 
we knew, — " Here lies one conquered, who 
hath conquered kings." Near by, stands 
Christ Hospital, whose pupils still wear the 



A Too Short Vacation. 81 

yellow stockings and long blue gowns made 
famous by such wearers as Coleridge, Lamb, 
and Leigh Hunt. Beyond it stands Char- 
terhouse, but it is not of Addison and Steele 
that we think, but of Thackeray and dear 
old Colonel Newcome. Farther to the east 
is Guildhall, with its pigeons and its fasci- 
nating museum ; then the Little Old Lady 
of Threadneedle Street and her handsome 
neighbors. Nearer us is the beautiful 
steeple of St. Mary le Bow. The Monu- 
ment with its golden flame, and the iron 
cage below to prevent suicides, is visible, 
but we look in vain for the Tower, though 
the Thames shipping and bridges we could 
see for a long distance. 

We came to London determined to go 
to the Temple, but nowhere else unless we 
longed for it. We had already done our 
duty to the sights, from the Crystal Palace 
and Madame Tussaud's to the National 
Gallery and the British Museum. The 
Memorial to the old Temple Bar, which we 
chanced to see, did not encourage us much. 



82 A Too Short Vacation. 

Statues of the Queen and the Prince of 
Wales may be all very well in their way, 
but they are too much of an anti-climax 
when one's soul is attuned to gory heads 
of traitors, resting on blood-rusted iron 
spikes. 

The place was full of lawyers, full-blown 
and budding, coming and going ; but when 
we entered the church we forget the Law 
Court. We forgot, even, that earlier time 
when the Round Church had been a 
meeting-place for lawyer and client, and 
remembered only the knights. The tiles 
of the floor bore the Templar design of 
the Agnus Dei in blue and white, but the 
crowning glory of the church is the seven 
beautiful statues of knights in full armor. 
One of them is said to be Henry III.'s 
Earl of Pembroke, and another, one of the 
Magna Charta barons. 

We did not go to Goldsmith's grave, 
because we did not know that he was 
buried in the Temple until later, but we 
visited the gardens. The Duke of Suffolk 



A Too Short Vacation. 83 

would not have found it now a " more con- 
venient place," for, though it is still beau- 
tifully kept, new buildings have made it 
smaller. Once the Thames was its boun- 
dary, but now the Victoria Embankment, 
rescued from the waters, comes in between. 

At the Royal Academy was the famous 
St. Elizabeth. The faces of the monks, 
looking beyond, not at, the lovely, naked 
form of the saint, have a wonderful expres- 
sion of earnestness and holiness. It may 
be that the story is not true, — when did we 
begin to demand historical accuracy in the 
pictures of the saints? — but the painting is 
certainly very fine, and far from immodest. 

Just as we were leaving Hyde Park, after 
watching the grand e monde on horseback 
and in carriages, we noticed a large crowd, 
which we soon discovered was to watch 
the Queen drive from Buckingham to the 
station for Windsor. We waited patiently 
for an hour or more. Prudentia won't sit 
on the curb-stone, — she draws the line 
there, — so we were fearfully tired ; but at 



8 4 



A Too Short Vacation. 



last horsemen, gorgeous in red and gold, 
appeared, after many preliminary clearings ; 
then a carriage with two fat old women, 
Marie of Teck and the Queen, followed by 
a carriage full of ladies-in-waiting. We 
had a splendid view of her, and were quite 
excited enough to cheer, but the crowd 
uttered not a sound. 

The streets were all beautifully decorated, 
— in our honor, we of course supposed, 




A Too Short Vacation. . 85 

but it turned out to be for the German 
Emperor's procession to Guildhall. So 
we made the best of it, and got seats at 
St. Clement's le Dane, Dr. Johnson's old 
church, to see it. As a parade it was not 
much. The carriages were few and far 
between, with two horses instead of the 
four that we had paid our money to see. 
Moreover, the stupid Londoners around us 
seemed to know no more about the nota- 
bles than we. We had good views of 
the Prince and Princess of Wales, both 
of whom were cordially received, and re- 
sponded graciously to the cheers, — so, like- 
wise, did Marie of Teck, who seems to be 
very popular. The Empress was gracious, 
too, but the Emperor was plainly bored. 
We had a much better view of them both, 
and a more pleasant impression of him, the 
day that we left for Canterbury, when we 
hung around Buckingham to see them drive 
out, — and were rewarded. 

The streets were filled with a very good- 
natured crowd, ready to hurrah for any- 
7 



86 A Too Short Vacation. 

thing, from royalty to the mail-wagons, the 
only vehicles allowed to pass for hours 
before the procession. Many of the women 
wandering about the streets wore plush hats 
covered with bedraggled feathers, though 
it was July. Afterwards we heard that it 
was the badge of the street-walker. 

In the evening we went to see charming 
Ellen Terry as " Nance Oldfield," and Irving 
in the " Corsican Brothers," a fine play, 
though high-strung and melodramatic for 
these unromantic days. It goes without 
saying that it was magnificently mounted. 
We sat in the — (let me whisper it in your 
good ear, my dear) — in the pit ! It corre- 
sponds in position with our parquet circle. 
Prudentia had staked a small sum on the 
assertion that only men and peanuts were 
admitted to this part of the house. She 
lost, of course. The occupants of the pit 
seemed to be well-to-do people (after all, it 
is sixty-two cents for a seat) of the small 
shop-keeping class. The rest of the house 
was in evening dress. 



A Too Short Vacation. 87 

Next day we went to Richmond. 

" Heavens ! what a goodly prospect spreads around, 
Of hills, and dales, and woods, and lawns, and spires, 
And glittering towns, and gilded streams, till all 
The stretching landscape into smoke decays." 

I almost hesitate to mention another of 
the famous charms of Richmond, which 
we searched for with more enthusiasm than 
we afterwards thought that the occasion 
warranted, — maids of honor, a small cake 
of precisely the same flavor as our lady- 
locks. We drove, after lunch, over Straw- 
berry Hill, past Pope's villa, — a ginger- 
bread affair, — Twickenham Ferry, Cunard's 
magnificent residence, and the fine old trees 
of Bushey Park. Hampton Court disap- 
pointed us. It is a large, rambling brick 
building, but the grounds are fine and the 
pictures are good, though a doubtless 
laudable effort to make them seem better, 
by attributing them to more distinguished 
painters than the facts of the case warrant, 
made it troublesome to find them in our 
correct catalogue. 



88 A Too Short Vacation. 

In spite of a penny already thrown away 
on the mammoth grape-vine, I proposed 
entering the Maze. Prudentia suggested 
that we might lose the way and wear 
ourselves out, but I insisted that that was 
impossible, since the directions in Baedeker 
were plain enough. As we entered, how- 
ever, the guard told us something else, and 
we foolishly did as he said. In consequence, 
we wandered around the wretched place 
for hours, unable to get either in or out, 
although it could not have measured more 
than a quarter of an acre in area. When, 
finally, we did succed in extricating our- 
selves, we hastened to Kew Gardens and 
lingered there just long enough to miss the 
last boat. We chose to go home by the 
'bus, thinking to see the insides of the little 
villages that look so charming from the 
river. We did, too, but there was nothing 
to see but a dreary stretch of houses, — 
London, the poor, Philistine side of it, 
continuously, though called by different 
names. 



A Too Short Vacation. 



8 9 



On Sunday, Prudentia piously went to 
church, and I with equal piety went to see 
about registering our luggage to Paris. 
My own private opinion is that we both 




wasted our 'bus fares and time. At least, 
I was shoo'd out of the station, and told 
that the luggage office was not open for 
such unnecessaries on Sunday. Later, we 
walked into Hyde Park, being still a-hunger 
8* 



go A Too Short Vacation. 

for the sight of greatness, but no one re- 
markable — except ourselves — was there. 
And we were chiefly noticeable for a gen- 
eral unwashed and trampy air, which the 
middle and lower classes have not yet 
attained. 

On our way to the train, we saw a great 
crowd in front of Buckingham Palace. Of 
course, we immediately smelt royalty, and 
alighted to wait with the other fools for sev- 
eral hours to see the Emperor and Empress 
go a-riding. Happily for us, the excited 
people in front stepped beyond the curb- 
stone and were driven back by the dignified 
police, leaving us in the front row. just as 
the royal pair drove out. He looked much 
handsomer, and, though still glum, re- 
sponded more cordially to the cheers with 
which he was greeted. The Empress was, 
as ever, gracious. She expressed herself 
as very much pleased with Prudentia's nose 
and my sensible mode of dress. Which 
reminds me, they have not mamma's size 
of Jaeger's over here, nor my length of leg, 



A Too Short Vacation. 91 

so that, unless I get them in Germany, we 
shall both have to do without. 

It is my turn .to take up the tale, and 
I begin by entering a protest against the 
introduction in this narrative of matters 
of such an intimate personal character as 
" mamma's underwear." I had hoped to 
use these pages, as Sanguinelle does, by 
sending them home to an eager and expect- 
ant family. Now they can hardly be blamed 
if they refuse to be comforted by any such 
record as the foregoing, to say nothing of 
the mortification that it would cause both 
Sanguinelle and her mamma to have their 
heroic but appalling resolution to do with- 
out underwear made public. 

We reached Canterbury about eleven 
o'clock in the evening. The business man- 
ager of the company had discovered that 
all the hotels were dear, — that is, high- 
priced — the cheap ones are those inshrined 
as dear in the books of the concern, — and 
that therefore we might as well go at once 
to the best. The silent partner assented, — 



92 A Too Short Vacation. 

silently, of course, as became such a mem- 
ber, but with much internal satisfaction. 
The room was so delightful that I wanted 
to go down and beg them to take a shilling 
more, but with marvellous penetration they 
anticipated our request, and added the shil- 
ling without solicitation. 

We had made our customary resolution 
before going to bed, to get up early in the 
morning, and fulfilled it in the same solemn 
manner by getting under way for sight-see- 
ing about ten o'clock. At any rate, it was 
but a few minutes before that hour that we 
reached the Cathedral, for we were just in 
time for the morning service, in which we 
were politely invited to take part, being told 
that the interesting portions could not be 
shown until after its conclusion. Now, it 
one is booked for the 1 1. 30 train, and had 
made a Spartan resolution to see the chief 
sights of the place before leaving, one is not 
in a sufficiently meditative and introspective 
state of mind for divine service. Indeed, 
the proposition had the effect of ruffling my 



A Too Short Vacation. 93 

very even temper, and, not to put too fine 
a point on it, of making me quite " mahd." 
So it was rather a cheerless walk that we 
took on leaving the Cathedral, in the direc- 
tion of St. Martin's, which is supposed to 
be the oldest church in England. The 
direction is such an easy thing to take, if 
all obstacles in the way could be levelled. 
Sanguinelle does her best to level them, I 
admit, for with her head buried in a book 
she goes bravely on, until she brings up 
with violence against a stone wall or a ten- 
story house. Fortunately, in Canterbury 
they have old-fashioned low houses, and 
so we finally reached St. Martin's. It is 
a very small, picturesque old church, and 
contains two interesting relics : the font in 
which St. Augustine baptized Ethelbert, 
and the sarcophagus of Queen Bertha, 
which was opened some years ago and 
found to contain only dust. So it is 
thought that it must have been opened 
before and robbed. We reached the 
Cathedral just in time to join another party 



94 A Too Short Vacation. 

on the same train intent, and were allowed 
to pass by what we did not care to see, and 
give our time to what we were really inter- 
ested in. It would not be easy to give an 
idea of the magnificence of the building 
and the beauty of its wonderful old stained 
glass. We "thrilled" chiefly over the tomb 
of the Black Prince, with the armor that he 
wore at the battle of Crecy. Among the 
other tombs were those of Henry IV., 
Stephen Langton, and the great monument 
erected by Margaret Holland to the mem- 
ory of her two husbands, — the first a 
brother to Henry IV., and the other his 
second son. The lady herself lies in the 
middle, while the two husbands rest con- 
tentedly on either side. 

We were shown the site of the house of 
Thomas a Becket, and walked through the 
cloisters that he threaded the day that he 
sought refuge in the church from his mur- 
derers, and we stood on the very spot on 
which he was slain in 1170. His relics 
reposed in a magnificent shrine in the choir, 



A Too Short Vacation. 95 

and were visited by numberless pilgrims, 
who have left the marks of their devotion 
in the deep hollows which their knees have 
worn in the marble steps. The shrine itself 
was destroyed by the order of Henry VIII., 
and only a fragment of the mosaic pave- 
ment remains to tell of its glory. 

In the crypt, one of the most magnificent 
in England, Elizabeth allowed the Protes- 
tant exiles from Flanders to set up their 
silk-looms, and their descendants still use 
one of the side aisles as a place of worship. 

Old St. Dunstan's is near the ancient 
gateway of the Roper mansion (Margaret 
More's Ropers), now a part of a brewery. 
In the Roper vault rests the head of Sir 
Thomas More, carried there by his loving 
daughter. Strange to say, it was forgotten, 
and when recently found caused some dis- 
cussion until its identity was finally settled. 

Mercery Lane reminds one of the ill- 
wind proverb. It is the street leading to 
the Cathedral, so called from the many 
merchants who used to expose their wares 



96 A Too Short Vacation. 

there to tempt the pilgrims. At its other end 
stood, formerly, Chaucer's Checquers Inn. 

The fear that we might lose the train 
made Sanguinelle an easy prey to the 
blandishments of a cabman. Well, not 
exactly an easy prey, — he proposed to take 
us to the station for two shillings, and she 
offered him one. He mournfully fell to one 
and a half, but we declared that we would 
walk. We reckoned that it would touch 
his heart to see us starting, so we began to 
play upon his feelings by taking some steps 
forward, and then looking back to observe 
the effect. But our time was too short to 
m^lt his adamantine heart, and so we were 
obliged to return meekly and pay the price 
that he demanded. 






VII. 

OUR abiding-place in Paris on the 
occasion of our first visit was the 
Avenue d'lena, one of the numerous 
avenues that radiate from the Place d'Etoile. 
It was a great distance from all places of 
interest, and our movements each day hung 
upon the question, " Can we get back in time 
for dinner?" This anxiety tended to chill 
our enthusiasm at the most sacred moments. 
It is hard to be rudely awakened from the 
contemplation of the Venus de Milo by the 
threat of cold soup, or, while thrilling with 
awe at the sarcophagus of the great 
Napoleon, to hear in your ear a reproach- 
ful voice, saying, " You like roast duck, 
don't you ? Well, you won't get any if 
you stay here much longer." 

So we determined to have a room in the 

97 



98 A Too Short Vacation. 

very centre of the great city, and to get 
dinner when and where we found conve- 
nient. We desired particularly to be near 
the Louvre, so that we could spend a short 
time there every morning, and thus take it 
by degrees. To pass hours in a picture- 
gallery fatigues the brain and leaves you 
with a confused and weary sense, as if you 
had been waltzing all evening without 
reversing. 

We found what we wanted at the Hotel 
Sainte-Marie, on the Rue de Rivoli, one 
square from the Louvre. It is true that it 
was on the " quatrieme etage," to which add 
the " rez de chausse" and the " entresol," 
and you have in plain English, — " Sixth 
story and no elevator." But we travelled 
up and down but once each day, in the 
evening to bed, and in the morning to the 
street. Moreover, when the height was 
reached we entered a charming room, 
nicely furnished, with its casement doors 
opening upon a veranda overhanging the 
Rue de Rivoli, from which we could see 



A Too Short Vacation. 99 

the splendid street stretching for miles, 
with its innumerable lights and its surging 
crowds of human beings, and hear, till far 
into the night, the roll of myriads of cabs 
over its smooth asphalt. 

We had our coffee or chocolate and the 
delicious French bread that they serve with 
it every morning in our room. 

No doubt the Parisian who can escape 
from the city on the fourteenth of July and 
find a cool and quiet refuge in some suburb 
does so. But to a stranger who sees Paris 
under that aspect for the first time, the 
sight is something to be remembered. 

We had read the announcements in the 
papers of free performances at the theatres 
and at the Grand Opera-House. At the 
latter was to be given " William Tell," and 
at the end of the second act the " Marseil- 
laise" was to be sung by the tenor, Mel- 
chisedic, and a large chorus. Sanguinelle 
said that she would like to go. She 
thought it would be an excellent opportunity 
for critical observation of the masses. 



ioo A Too Short Vacation. 

I thought it would be a good test of our 
glibness with colloquial French. Then we 
smiled and confided to each other that, 
after all, it was only human nature to like 
to go to the theatre free. 

The next morning we started out, hoping 
that the holiday would not hinder us, dur- 
ing the morning hours, from getting our 
mail from the bankers. As we passed the 
Opera-House, at ten o'clock, the people 
were already waiting in groups of about 
fifty, although the hour fixed for the 
opening of the doors was half-past one. 
We learned from the papers, later, that 
some had begun to assemble as early as 
four o'clock in the morning. On our 
return from the banker's, the number of 
groups had increased and was still growing. 
They were intelligent-looking, orderly 
crowds. After a group was complete, no 
one was allowed to join it. Occasionally 
some one would saunter up and, imagining 
he had escaped the eye of the guard, try to 
lose himself in the group. But invariably 



A Too Short Vacation. 101 

he would be discovered, touched politely 
on the shoulder, and invited to go further 
down and join the last group forming. He 
invariably obeyed, smilingly. There was 
no such jostling or pushing as has been 
experienced at the Academy of Music on a 
Patti night, for example. 

We hesitated for some time, fearing 
chiefly that they might resent our coming 
as strangers, taking part in a feast that was 
not spread for us. Finally we took cour- 
age and joined the last group. We were at 
once taken to their arms, — metaphorically, 
be it understood. They knew we were 
foreigners, and judged us to be English, 
from our costumes, no doubt. Of course, 
our conversation would not betray us ! 
When they discovered that we were Ameri- 
cans we had simply in that group forty- 
eight devoted admirers. They found out 
the soft spots in the wall for us to lean 
against. When Sanguinelle agilely raised 
herself to a broad window-seat a short dis- 
tance from the ground, they approved in a 
8 



102 A Too Slwrt Vacation. 

most voluble way, and a broad shoulder 
X once placed at my disposal to lift 
me up to the same comfortable perch. 

ders of all sorts of refreshments 
i along, and strange cries assaulted 
our ears. Menthe! Men:. ieked 

an old woman, almost angrily. We tried 
to appease her by investing in some, and, 
before we had taken it from its wrappings, 
our noses recognized the mint of our child- 
hood. " Limonade ou vi: stributed 
impartially from s uspended on the 
right and left side of the vender on a 
wooden bar which crossed his shoulders. 
Sanguinelle took a glass of limonade on the 
recommendation of our neighbors, anc 
to me afterwards, with a ghastly smile. — 
Talk about the heroism of your Spartan 
with something gnawing at his vitals, — 
I am suffering agony from that dose of var- 
nish, and yet I must sm: 

I begged her to howl if it would relieve 
\nd assured her that all who were ob- 
serving her would find it more endurable 



A Too Short Vacation. 103 

than her smiles. But she feared the people 
might think she was pretending that she 
had an aristocratic stomach, and so she re- 
mained a smiling martyr to republican preju- 
dices. 

Finally the doors were opened, and each 
group advanced in turn to the main entrance, 
preceded by a line of six gendarmes. We 
felt like persons of distinguished considera- 
tion, escorted to the opera in this official 
way. 

After our admittance, we found ourselves 
in the vast corridors of the Opera-House, 
but we could not get into the boxes. It did 
not take long to discover that a small coin 
dropped in the hand of the box-opener 
was the proper thing to do. Twenty cen- 
times thus expended admitted us both into 
a box facing the stage, giving a magnificent 
view of the house. The opera was finely 
given ; the singing of the Marseillaise a 
revelation. The stage at this point was 
beautifully set, and decorated with the tri- 
color. The chorus likewise wore the tri- 



104 A Too Short Vacation. 

color on their white dresses. The tenor 
wore the uniform of a French soldier. At 
the conclusion of the hymn the whole house 
rose and shouted with the wild enthusiasm 
that only a French audience on such an 
occasion can command. 

In the evening the city seemed as if it 
had been suddenly transported to the land 
of the midnight sun. Light everywhere. 
In every open space the people were dan- 
cing to the music of bands furnished by the 
municipality. The city took on the appear- 
ance of one vast ball-room. We walked 
the length of the brilliant Champs-Elysees, 
and were near the Arc de Triomphe before 
we began to feel fatigued or thought of re- 
turning. Then we made an awful discovery. 
After a certain hour on the evening of the 
Fourteenth, all vehicles were forbidden to 
run, and the streets were given completely 
over to the people. After the fatigue of the 
day, to walk back ! My knees struck work 
promptly, refusing to support me, much 
less help to propel me, and I sank, a limp 



A Too Short Vacation. 105 

and nerveless mass, upon a bench, and be- 
gan feebly to calculate the perils of spend- 
ing the night there. Sanguinelle was very 
kind, and did her best to comfort me. She 

said, — 

" I never saw any one like you : you let 
your imagination take such a hold on you ! 
You are always more tired, and more sick, 
and more hot, and more cold than anybody 

else." 

Then she quoted, " One step and then 
another, and the longest walk is ended." 
The last words of this touching sentiment 
were lost to me. I was miles ahead and in 
my first sweet sleep by the time she reached 
home. 

In this and all subsequent walks in Paris 
we never had an unpleasant experience. 
No one stared at us rudely, no one spoke 
to us, no one followed us. I mention this 
because of the indignant complaints I have 
heard uttered by ladies who, as Sanguinelle 
naively remarked, were " much plainer than 
we." 



106 A Too Short Vacation. 

" Do you remember Nellie S., that thin 
girl with pale hair, and a slight cast in her 
eye, who was in Paris two years ago with 
her sister? Why, she had to leave the car 
one morning, she told me, because every 
man put his paper on his knee and stared 
at her." 

" Yes," said Sanguinelle, " and there was 
Mary B., who stayed here some time study- 
ing art. She was quite plain and nearly 
forty years old, and she was obliged always 
to go in a cab, accompanied by her aunt, 
an old lady who died shortly from the phys- 
ical exertion and mental care which this 
vigilance necessitated." 

These memories made us sad and uncom- 
fortable. We suddenly found that we had 
developed a serious grievance. Why were 
we left alone so emphatically ? Why were 
no admiring glances cast at us ? We did 
not want them, understand. Oh, not at all ! 
Only, in view of the testimony of others, we 
could not but feel their absence strange 
— "and unaccountable." We consolingly 






A Too Short Vacation. 



°7 



assured each other, after a careful scrutiny 
in the glass, — 




" Perhaps our gowns are not sufficiently 
fin-de-siecle" I suggested. " I think that I 
shall decide to take the costume that I was 
looking at in the Bon Marche." 

Where the narrow Rue du Bac crosses 
the Rue de Sevres, stands the woman's para- 
dise, the Bon Marche. We had fallen vic- 
tims to its fascinations some time before. 



108 A Too Short Vacation. 

To-day, I was to try on my new gown. The 
saleswoman stood waiting with the skirt on 
her arm. I began to loose the fastenings 
of my old one, when a horrible remem- 
brance of what was underneath arrested my 
fingers. How could I step out before that 
French girl in all the baldness of a divided 
skirt? I sidled back of Sanguinelle and 
tried to gain time by all sorts of devices, 
while the girl regarded my antics with 
amazement. I hoped to be able to accom- 
plish some sort of lightning change in a 
moment when her eyes would not be fixed 
on me. But her eye was fixed on me every 
moment. She was evidently prepared, in 
case I should prove violently insane, to call 
for help. So with one reckless movement 
I let my skirt fall, and covered my face with 
my hands, but she clapped hers together 
and exclaimed, — 

" Le pantalon !" 

Back of magnificent Notre Dame is the 
Morgue. The two are knit together in our 
memories by the following incident, which 



A Too Short Vacation. 109 

we witnessed. We had entered the Cathe- 
dral and had spent some time admiring the 
old stained glass in the beautiful rose win- 
dow over the portal. The silence of the 
vast place took possession of us. We seated 
ourselves in a dim corner, and watched un- 
consciously the few worshippers, some of 
whom were going the rounds of the sta- 
tions; others were mechanically passing the 
beads of a rosary through their fingers, 
while their lips muttered inaudibly, and their 
eyes followed the movements of the passers- 
by. In a side chapel near by, were votive 
candles burning before a shrine, and here 
we saw the figure of a woman, — young, as 
the light from the candle on her occasion- 
ally upturned face showed us, — seemingly 
convulsed with grief, and praying with a 
fervor and agony strangely in contrast with 
the mechanical devotion that we had ob- 
served in others. We instinctively turned 
away, and, outside, conjectured what could 
be the sorrow that oppressed her. Still 
talking of her, we came upon an excited 



iio A Too Short Vacation. 

and voluble crowd. We were in front of 
the Morgue, and a new " case" had just been 
exposed. The place had always a morbid 
fascination for us, and we went in with the 
rest to look. The bodies are placed in a 
slanting position behind a glass partition, 
and a small stream of water falls unceasingly 
on each one. Near the body are hung the 
clothes taken from it, to help in identifica- 
tion. 

The new case was a young man, whose 
fairly handsome face was marred by a great 
purple bruise on the left temple. His eyes 
were partly open, giving to the dead face 
the awful semblance of a leer, which was 
accentuated by the cruel-looking teeth, 
showing through the parted lips. As we 
turned to go, a movement of the crowd 
momentarily arrested us, wedged us in, and 
brought us to a stand-still. Suddenly we 
heard a woman's cry, — not a shriek, — an 
agonized wail, — 

" Mon Dieu ! c'est lui ! II est mort !" and 
she sank down insensible. As they carried 



A Too Short Vacation. I 1 1 

her out, we recognized the woman in the 
Cathedral. This, then, was the end of her 
prayers ! Her votive candle had hardly 
time rightly to set up its little blaze before 
her prayers were answered. 

The crowd around were ignorant of her 
story, but a kw days later, in a shop in the 
vicinity where we had bought some trifles, 
we gleaned the facts which formed the gen- 
erally received account in the neighbor- 
hood. 

He was a young workman, whose hand- 
some face won him many successes. She 
was a young girl from one of the provinces, 
near Dijon, I think, who had abandoned 
her home for his sake, and who clung to 
him with jealous passion, in spite of his 
efforts to throw her off after he had tired of 
her. She was too new to the life of the 
city to console herself for his desertion as 
most of her class do, and, moreover, she 
blamed herself for the sudden death of her 
mother, which had taken place soon after 
her flight. So remorse and jealousy and 



112 A Too S/iort Vacation. 

loneliness combined to make her miserable. 
They had many stormy scenes, and after 
one of these violent periods he had gone 
off, swearing that he would put an end to 
it. The fourth day after his disappearance, 
his body was placed in the Morgue. 

To take a bath in one of the establish- 
ments on the Seine is an agreeable sensa- 
tion. You must first decide how you will 
have it, simple, au fond du bain, avec pei- 
gnoir, etc. We took the most elaborate, 
although we did not know in the least 
what we were contracting for in an au fond 
du bain. Two deft handmaidens immedi- 
ately appeared and began to open an im- 
mense sheet, which they spread in the 
bottom of the tub, smoothing it out nicely 
on the sides. 

There is a swimming establishment in 
the north part of the city, fitted up in fine 
style, with a magnificent tank lined with 
marble, wherein we disported ourselves. 
Nothing clears the mind and refreshes the 
body, after the fatigues of sight-seeing, like 



A Too Short Vacation. 1 1 3 

a plunge in the water and a few vigorous 
strokes. 

The trip on the Seine to St.- Cloud (I 
proudly informed Sanguinelle that its name 
came from St. Clodoald, grandson of Clovis, 
who here founded a monastery) is a very 
agreeable ride on the river. After passing 
under the numerous bridges of the Seine, 
we come to the long, narrow Isle de Cygne, 
on the extremity of which is a copy, re- 
duced in size, of Bartholdi's Liberty statue 
in New York. 

The Chateau of St. Cloud is a picturesque 
ruin. Its deserted pride touches you, and 
your heart feels heavy for the two unhappy 
ones that held court here, — Josephine and 
Eugenie. The parks are the great attrac- 
tion, particularly when the fountains play. 
From a high point in the grounds, one gets 
a magnificent view, — below the Seine, to 
the right, the bridge of St. -Cloud ; further 
on, the Bois de Boulogne ; then Arc de Tri- 
omphe, Montmartre, the Trocadero, the Eifel 
Tower, of course, the domes of Des Inva- 



H4 A Too Short Vacation. 

lides and of the Pantheon, and the count- 
less houses of Paris. 




From St.-Cloud, it is a pleasant walk 
through shaded avenues to Ville d'Avray, 
where we proposed to take the train for 
Versailles. I must enter for the second 
time in this journal the fact that we lost 
the train. Now, Sanguinelle has the most 
remarkable antipathy to asking the route. 
She takes as much delight in working it out 
from the directions in Baedeker as if it were 
a prize problem. I must follow close be- 
hind with a countenance illuminated with 
the same unfaltering faith, and be prepared 
to execute the same sudden and bewilder- 
ing changes of base that she does, else she 
suspects me of meanly trying to work it out 



A Too Short Vacation. 1 1 5 

on an independent plan of my own. I 
strive to do my part, but occasionally I have 
lapses. We are all weak creatures, Heaven 
help us! On this occasion, I was seized 
with a strong desire to ask the way from a 
workman who was coming along. I craftily 
measured my distance from Sanguinelle, 
and, satisfied that I was safe, sailed into the 
colloquy. His answer was not very clear. 
It seemed to me, from what I could gather 
from his remarks, that he was giving me his 
ideas on the permanence of the French 
Republic. It is almost a drawback to ac- 
custom your ear exclusively to the pure 
Parisian accent ; it leaves you helpless in a 
case like this. When I had sufficiently re- 
covered from my stunned condition, I saw 
Sanguinelle at the end of the street, wildly 
gesticulating. I made the best time possi- 
ble, but it was too late. 

Five minutes later, we changed recrimi- 
nations to congratulation. Here, at Ville 
d'Avray, is the house in which Gambetta 
breathed his last. We found it readily, a 



u6 



A Too Short Vacation. 



pretty place in the midst of shrubbery and 
flowers. The room where he died remains 
much as it was. The bed was covered with 
wreathes of immortelles and those beady 
monstrosities which play such a large part 
in the expression of French grief. The 




drawing-room below is also full of similar 
souvenirs. The memory of another great 
man dwells in this house, where he lived 
and wrote, — Balzac. 



A Too Short Vacation. 117 

We had visited Versailles before. In a 
stern devotion to duty, we had looked at 
all the pictures in the whole weary length 
of its galleries, and had tried to say that we 
liked them. We had essayed the perilous 
feat of walking with calm, untroubled dig- 
nity the slippery floor of the Galerie des 
Glaces, without permitting anxiety for our 
feet to lower the aristocratic poise of our 
head. We had thrilled in the chambre-a- 
coucher of Marie Antoinette, and touched 
with reverent hands the bed on which 
Louis XIV. died. We did not want to do 
it over, however, but we did want to visit 
Petit Trianon again, or rather " Le hameau," 
the group of rustic houses in which the 
ladies of the court played at being dairy- 
maids and villagers. These poor little 
houses, deserted, closed, with a mournful 
silence brooding over them, make one very 
sad, like the toys of a dead child. Through 
the windows of the laiterie one can see 
the marble slabs on which the butter was 
placed. In front of a little thatched cot- 
9 



1 1 8 A Too Short Vacation. 

tage, used by Marie Antoinette, stands a 
tree planted by her hand. It is dead. On 
a rustic bench, in the porch, a priest sat 
reading his breviary. We lingered here 




long after sunset, and when we came out, 
we found that the cabmen had gone to seek 
other and (at that hour, no doubt,) more 
promising pastures. We were consequently 
obliged to walk to the station. The road 
was long and we were weary ; moreover, 
I was distinctly hungry, — the symptoms 
made it easy to diagnose the case. Having 
arrived at the station but half an hour 
before the train started, we ordered, in a 
cafe close by, what might be quickly pre- 
pared, — steak for me ; for Sanguinelle, an 
omelette with cheese, her morbid taste 



A Too Short Vacation. 1 1 9 

craving these strange combinations. The 
garcon spread the cloth, adjusting with 
painful nicety the crease to the centre of 
the table, laid the knife over the fork, then 
thought better of it and reversed the 
arrangement, went away for a long time, 
came back with the salt-cellar, and could 
not satisfy himself on what spot of the table 
it looked best. Ten minutes were gone, and 
I had begun to play on the floor an adagio 
movement with my right foot. His next 
visit was more promising, for he came bear- 
ing bread and a bottle of wine. He had 
disappeared again before we discovered 
that the cork was not drawn. Five minutes 
were spent in munching dry bread, and the 
movement was markedly allegro, but the 
motif remained the same. " I heard his 
footfall's music," — he had the tooth-picks 
in one hand, and placed them in the centre 
of the table, laying a dainty finger-bowl on 
a side table for later use. Allegro resolved 
naturally into vivace. My French rose to 
the occasion. I said, — 



A Too Short Vacation. 

- 
les desire pas du tout. Je desire bifstek et 
tout de suite. Comprenez-v*: 

And, after all, I could not eat it. My 
; ::~:i:~ r. :.t: .:- :. z:± i::± i^zr.' ~.±i: 
on Friday winch I have never been able to 
reason it out o£ ant 1 so I had to eat San- 
guinelle's awful combination and watch her 
come up to time in the most amazing way 
on my beefsteak, which came on steaming 
hot eight minutes before the train started. 

and third Saturday of each month by an 
order from the Director of Public Works. 
It is necessary to be provided with a candle 
— which may be purchased (ingeniously 
placed on a box-cover for a candle-sti : 

The catacombs are ancient quarries 
which, in the time of the Romans, fur- 
nished the stone for the building of their 

- 
of the city on the left bank of the river. 

About a century ago, some of the streets 



A Too Short Vacation. 121 

under which they ran began to sink. 
Thereupon the government caused walls 
and supports to be constructed, and ordered 
that the bones from the suppressed cem- 
eteries should be transported here. Hence 
their name. During the Reign of Terror, 
too, some bodies were thrown into the 
passages. The bones have since been 
arranged according to a systematic plan, 
and are disposed in fantastic shapes and 
intricate patterns on either side of the long 
galleries, varied with rows of skulls. In 
one passage are found bones presenting 
some anomaly, — in another those deformed 
by disease, and so on. A sight like this 
makes one long to secure for his remains 
the decent annihiliation of the crematory 
and the repose of the funeral urn. Think 
of your tibia and fibula helping to eke out 
an elaborate Greek pattern, or your ver- 
tebrae, with the aid of the spinal column of 
some other unfortunate, making concentric 
circles, or your dainty finger-bones, paired 
off with just as dainty ones furnished by 



122 A Too Short Vacation. 

another party to the contract, forced to 
radiate from a common centre consisting of 
a pomum Adami. On the opposite side 
of the wall will be your skull, well pleased, 
to judge from its broad grin, at the distin- 
guished figure(s) the rest of you is cutting. 
I feel that mine would weep, — that out of 
the caverns of the eyes would roll great 
tears, and from the awful jaws would come 
a supplication, — 

" Cover us up decently. Let our poor, 
naked repulsiveness be hidden. Put out 
the light and let the show be over." 

Coming from dinner, we were often 
tempted to flatten our noses against the 
plate-glass of the shop windows of the 
Palais Royal and hunger after the pretty 
things on the other side. Thus absorbed, 
we would hear a buzzing sound whose 
gentle persistence would force us finally to 
look up. It was the proprietor, saying, — 

" Come into my parlor," or words to 
that effect. Then we would move on to 
the next window, to hear the same little 



A Too Short Vacation. 123 

ditty transposed three semitones to suit the 
tenor voice of the new performer. After 
a while, it was amusing to hear the theme 
begun, suddenly cease, and the singer dis- 
appear as he recognized the fact that he 
had chanted before to the same audience 
to no profit. 

The cabs of Paris are delightful little 
carriages, running smoothly and swiftly 
along the magnificently-paved streets of 
the city. They are, as a rule, well kept, 
and the costume of the driver quite correct, 
though the horses seem poor after the fine 
ones of London. One feels like a bloated 
aristocrat, taking an agreeable ride in one of 
these elegant vehicles, but grows more 
humble on passing one in which is seated 
a laundress, bareheaded, with her huge 
bundle at her feet ; or another, with three 
workmen in their blue blouses, returning 
from their work. They are so cheap (forty 
cents an hour, and a pourboire of five or 
six cents extra to the driver), that all 
classes use them. They are owned by 



124 ^ Too Short Vacation. 

companies who rent them to the drivers, 
who really only receive the little that is 
given them in pour mangers, as the tem- 
perate Pomona called them. Monsieur le 
cocher cannot easily cheat you if you have 
the smallest knowledge of French, for the 
tariff is printed on the slip of paper which 
he is obliged to hand you if you demand, — 

" Le numero, s'il vous plait." 

Any overcharge is punished by impris- 
onment, the illegal money being returned. 

The announcement " complet" on an om- 
nibus is, to an American, one of the mar- 
vels of Europe, probably because no living 
man or woman ever saw our cars in that 
condition. Likewise, it is exasperating 
when one is impatient to get to the other 
end of the city. At certain hours — dinner- 
time, for example, when every one wants to 
get to his home, or to his particular cafe — 
you need the patience of Job and the years 
of Methuselah to wait for your number 
to be called. For, gentlemen, there is no 
chance here to practise your artful little 



A Too Short Vacation. 125 

plan of walking down a square and board- 
ing the 'bus while yet in full speed, en- 
sconcing yourselves in the various snug 
corners with an innocent, absorbed expres- 
sion ! You must go to the station and get 
your number, which will probably be 555, 
and likewise get an attack of St. Vitus's 
dance in the nervous effort to recognize 
your number when the conductor, with the 
speed of a lightning calculator, calls 
out, — 

" Cinque cent cinquante cinque." 
There you must be, on the spot, to tum- 
ble right in, or the play begins over again 
for you. If you have forgotten to buy 
your evening paper before mounting the 
imperial, do not despair. The newsman 
will hand it up to you on top of a long 
stick and deftly catch the sous that you 
throw him. Occasionally an inspector 
boards the car and examines the conductor's 
accounts. More than once we witnessed a 
heated discussion between them. Our 
sympathy was always on the side of the 



126 A Too Short Vacation. 

conductor, for, as a rule, he is long-suffering 
and polite. 

A walk in Paris is a delight, although a 
greater delight must be to occupy a seat in 
front of a cafe, like a reserved place at a 
show, and watch the changing panorama of 
street life. We did not try it. We always 
formed part of the spectacle. There were 
other figures almost as unique. The innu- 
merable fruit-sellers, for example, with 
their hand-carts filled with delicious 
apricots, luscious plums, and mammoth 
gooseberries. These were a constant 
irritant to Sanguinelle's appetite, and con- 
sequently a perpetual threat to our purse. 
In one encounter, she was so anxious to 
set her teeth in the luscious things that she 
threw her coins down impetuously before 
the bag was filled, whereupon the shrewd 
old villain, first satisfying himself that no 
gendarme was near, declared that the 
money had been placed there by a previous 
customer. There was some rapid French 
on both sides. I supported Sanguinelle in 






A Too Short Vacation. 127 

her extremity, though usually I frown 

upon these extravagances, and I have a 

confused remembrance of getting my 

moods and tenses miserably mixed up, 

and even exploding upon his old head 

some German words, for, when angry, I 

am 

" More fluent than a parrot is, 

And far more polly-glottish." 

Perhaps the German capped the climax 
of the old man's anger, for he became 
quite awful, and as we had brought no 
passports with us, and did not wish the risk 
of having our departure from Paris that 
evening delayed, we beat a prudent retreat, 
leaving with the old sinner both plums and 
pennies. 

On passing a funeral one day, every man 
on top of the 'bus on which we were took 
off his hat, and every one in the street 
below also uncovered his head. A beauti- 
ful custom, we thought, though we failed 
to understand the same sentiment, perhaps, 
which prompts the Frenchman to leave his 



128 A Too Short Vacation. 

visiting-card, with the corner turned down, 
in the tomb of the dear departed. 

In front of the Venus de Milo, a young 
woman, dressed in the prevailing mode, a 
long, waspish waist, the lines of her bodice, 
as much as possible, arranged to conceal 
the presence of hips, — for, as some one 
remarks, the ribs may, unfortunately, be 
compressed, but hip-bones, like facts, are 
stubborn things, — and, of course, the pro- 
verbial little mice peeping out from under 
her petticoat, — remarked to her husband, — 

"Well, my dear, now look at her dis- 
passionately and confess the truth. Put 
clothes on the Venus de Milo and she 
would look like a guy." 

He (after careful meditation). Yes, I 
agree with you. She would. 

She (gleefully). At last I have convinced 
you ! 

He. Not so fast, my dear ; let me ask 
you a question first. Do you agree with 
the unanimous opinion of the rest of the 
world that this is a perfect form ? 






A Too Short Vacation. 129 

She (not seeing his drift too well). 
Ye-es. 

He. Suppose that all the world agrees 
with you in the opinion that she would 
look like a guy in clothes, — tell me, then, 
who must bear the reproach, Venus or the 
dressmaker ? 

Which only proves that man's mind is 
more logical than woman's, — at least, a 
mind kept in such a poor, distorted envel- 
ope as the one that pouted half-angrily, 
and turned to go up-stairs to see the pic- 
tures. 



1ft 



VIII. 

/ E had the whole compartment to our- 
selves on the train to Lausanne, 
better luck than we had dared to 
hope for ; but everything else about the trip 
went wrong, from the chicken without salt 
and the wine without a cup, which we had 
bought for a midnight repast, to a small 
bottle of ammonia that impudently spilled 
over and stained Prudentia's new couverture. 
We had taken other advice than Baedeker's 
in choosing the Pontarlier route, and did 
not think that the scenery, though fine, was 
worth the extra time and bother. Four 
o'clock in the morning is too early in the 
day for the expression of very warm en- 
thusiasm, particularly when one is still 
lamenting a wholly paid for, and only half 
swallowed, breakfast. We saw, as once 
130 






A Too Short Vacation. 131 

before on a night journey, the Parisienne, 
who, with toilette vinegar, powder, hand- 
glass, and perfumery, succeeds in making 
herself look as if she had just stepped from 
her boudoir. We could not help wonder- 
ing whom she expected to meet. 

Though the steamer route from Lausanne 
to Geneva is not over the most picturesque 
part of the lake, we were charmed with its 
crystal, clear blue, blue, blue water, and 
the lovely villages on its banks, many of 
them, like Coppet and Ferney, the former 
residences of the great of the earth. At 
Morges we had our first view of Mont 
Blanc It was magnificent, so huge and 
white, that I am almost afraid to say, lest 
it should make him seem less grand, that 
we could see a strong resemblance to the 
great head of a frog. 

Arrived in Geneva, we went on a wild 
search for Calvin's house. Heaven alone 
knows why either of us cared to see it, but 
we console ourselves with the thought that 
otherwise we might not have seen the old 



132 A Too Short Vacation. 

and more interesting part of the town. The 
new part is quite handsome, but a disagree- 
able mixture of Paris and America. We 
did not care for it at all, and I feel sure 
that the American travellers (it is, of course, 
different if one comes to stay or study) 
who have liked it must have been those 
who rejoiced to speak English again, or 
men addicted to the real American drinks. 
We saw them all, and for the first time in 
Europe, from ice-water to sherry cobblers 
and gin cocktails. There is a fine view of 
the Mont Blanc and Jura ranges. The 
lake is beautiful, and the boats, with their 
bright-colored, lateen-shaped sails, pictur- 
esque. Beside the lake plays a fountain of 
great height, which, in the rays of the sun, 
continually changes its color. The hotel 
was one of the best that we visited, too, yet 
we were very willing to leave Geneva. 

Our fellow-travellers to Cluses were two 
clergymen and two American ladies whom 
we had previously noticed in a wild state of 
excitement, searching for a Cook interpreter 



A Too Short Vacation. 133 

to help them about their luggage, two 
enormous Saratogas. 

" How odd that they do not speak Eng- 
lish in the baggage-room, of all places !" 
said one, settling herself and opening a 
Phrase-Book. In twenty minutes she 
handed the book to her friend, and pro- 
ceeded to repeat, with becoming owl-like 
gravity, — 

" Donne z-moi une fourchette et un conteau } 
sHl vons plait. 

" At any rate, I can ask for a knife and 
fork," she added, congratulatory. 

We refrained from disturbing her seren- 
ity with the thought that even in uncivilized 
Europe the table was usually previously 
provided with them. 

At Bonneville there was a magnificent 
view of Mont Blanc, white and dazzling, 
but the diligence ride was more tiresome 
than pleasant, and we determined thereafter 
to take a carriage, or walk. The three 
glaciers — our first — were disappointing, seen 
from the road. One has to be near them, 



134 A Too Short Vacation. 

on them, and in them, to get any idea of 
their enormous size. Afterwards we were 
enthusiastic over the last of the three, the 
Glacier des Bossons, with its huge needles 
of ice and its lighted grotto, but that day 
we were only anxious to get to a hotel to 
stretch our weary limbs. My idea of Cha- 
mouni had been a peaceful valley under the 
shadow of Mont Blanc. It was that once, 
perhaps ; now it is a collection of hotels, 
inhabited by tourists, surrounded by guides, 
mules, and souvenir dealers. 

Early the next morning, armed with 
newly-purchased alpenstocks and scorning 
the proprietor's offer of a guide, we set out 
to ascend Montanvert. Baedeker says, 
"passing the little English church, cross 
the meadow to the houses of Les Mouilles," 
which we did all right, though I could not 
help thinking that we were on the wrong 
side of the Arve. Prudentia remarked 
that it was strange that no one else was 
travelling the same road, but I was too full 
of the beautiful flowers to let these doubts 



A Too Short Vacation. 135 

weigh heavily. The next chalets were to 
be reached in a quarter of an hour. An 
hour passed and there were still no signs of 
them. Prudentia looked doubtful, which, 
in view of the fact that I was feeling the 
same way, was irritating. 

" We are on the right road, of course. 
We could not have made a wrong turn, for 
there has been no choice," said I, decid- 
edly. 

" It seems strange that no one else is 
coming up," reiterates Prudentia for the 
twentieth time, but with a deeper expression 
of gloom. 

" You always think that we are wrong. 
We can't be." 

No answer. 

" I know that we are right," threateningly, 
" aren't we ?" 

" Yes, yes," said she, and immediately 
begins to mutter paters and avcs in extenu- 
ation of the lie. 

It seems that there are two churches in 
Chamouni, and we had taken the road 



136 A Too Short Vacation. 

leading past the Catholic church in the vil- 
lage. There was nothing to do but to 
retrace our steps, which made it late when 
we finally started up Montanvert. More- 
over, it had begun to rain and the path was 
muddy. All the natives assured us that 
it was only a passing shower, except the 
woman in the cantine where we lunched, 
and we had grave doubts of the disinterest- 
edness of her weather lore, for she had an 
umbrella to rent. Prudentia paid two francs 
of her own for it (I declined to share any 
such sybaritic luxury), and we trudged 
ahead with the extra burden. At last the 
hotel was reached. Hungry, wet, and tired, 
we hastily ate a dinner, and, giving our 
clothes to be dried and cleaned, went to 
bed. The room was beautiful, ceiled with 
a natural pine of exquisite gloss and grain. 
The window looked down on the Mer de 
Glace, which, for the first time, seemed 
huge. All around rose the snow-covered 
mountains of stone, whose sharp peaks 
deserve their name, Aiguilles. 



A Too Short Vacation. 



37 



Baedeker says that a guide to cross the 
glacier is necessary for the inexperienced ; 
therefore we took one, though much 
against our wills, and if he had not been 




steeped in admiration for our agility and 
French, we should have regretted it, for 
there was no danger, plenty of deep 
crevices, to be sure, but always a plain way 
to avoid them. I did not even wear socks 



38 



A Too Short Vacation. 



over my shoes, and yet had no difficulty in 
keeping upright. 

So encouraged were we that we went 
down the Mauvais Pas alone, undismayed 
by Baedeker's warning to elderly people, and 
by the stories of fainting women carried 
down by guides. The descent was not 
even exciting, for, though the steps are cut 




out of the solid rock, down a steep cliff, yet 
a railing makes one safe. The Chapeau is 
a ledge of rock looking down on the Mer 
de Glace and up to the great snow moun- 



A Too Short Vacation. 139 

tains back of it. We entered the inn there 
to have our sticks marked and to order a 
lunch. The prices were so exorbitant that, 
as it was still early, we deferred it to a more 
convenient time, and, trying to forget the 
soreness and lameness consequent on yes- 
terday's walk in the rain, we ascended the 
Flegere. I cannot say that we were quite 
comfortable, but we were glad that we had 
not given up when we looked at the mag- 
nificent panorama from that mountain. In 
the middle flowed the Mer de Glace, as 
gracefully curved and as white as a foamy 
river ; on all sides rose up huge mountains 
of stone and snow, while at the left, whiter 
than all, stood Mont Blanc, so far away 
that he seemed less high than the nearer 
peaks. 

Next morning we were less sore than the 
previous day, so after an early breakfast we 
sent on our valise, and, carrying a small 
net bag provided with two pairs of stock- 
ings, a comb, two night-dresses, and a flask 
of cognac for emergencies, alpenstocks in 



140 A Too Short Vacation. 

hand, set out for Martigny. The first part 
of the road was familiar, for we had taken 
it on our return from the Flegere. It was 
quite level, the day fine, and as we swung 
our sticks gayly forward we felt that the 
whole earth was ours. Suddenly I ex- 
claimed, — 

"Where is the Baedeker?" 

Prudentia insisted upon going back alone 
for it, whereat I wept aloud, and ceased 
only to find her gone. I tried to sit calmly 
by the roadside, but finally, urged on by 
the remembrance of the hotel proprietor's 
charge for our luggage, which we had 
thought exorbitant at the time, but had 
paid with only one murmur because of our 
haste to be on our way, I returned to find 
the Baedeker lost. It was too much. I 
opened the vials of my wrath on the land- 
lord, who luckily (for me) understood 
English. I could not have said all that was 
in my heart in any other language. We 
searched the village through for another 
book, and had almost given up when one 



A Too Short Vacation. 141 

of the natives kindly escorted us to the 
hiding-place of the only one in town, the 
latest edition, fortunately, and once more, 
but with weary hearts, we set forth on our 
travels. A sight of the great glacier of 
Argentiere cheered us a little, but it was the 
excellent lunch at the inn that really recon- 
ciled us to our lot. While we were eating, 
it suddenly began to pour. We looked at 
each other and — laughed. We had walked 
in the rain before and enjoyed it; moreover, 
a pretty young lady, an American, though 
she looked English, advised us to go on, 
and told us of a short cut, for which we 
thanked her profusely, but mentally re- 
solved not to take, feeling it wiser to keep 
to the main road, We had only gone a 
short distance, however, when she and her 
sister overtook us. They had kindly come 
out in the rain to show us the beginning of 
the shorter route, which, after all, was sim- 
ple enough. The carriage-road ascends in 
wide, bold curves which her path cut across. 
On we went in the rain and strong wind 



142 A Too Short Vacation. 

(luckily back of us), but warm and happy 
with the glow of walking. Our attire 
freed us from the chief discomfort a woman 
feels in walking in the rain, — the slimy 
clasp of long, wet skirts clinging to the 
ankles with every step. We turned fre- 
quently to look at the valley and mountains 
behind us, which were visible in spite of the 
storm, and our eyes dwelt on a landscape 
so acutely desolate that we felt the same 
poignant pleasure a great tragedy begets. 
At last we reached the summit of the pass. 
The descent, though less exhilarating, was 
more interesting, with its beautiful cascades, 
a lonely valley, and wayside crosses often 
covered with flowers. I shall never forget 
the delightful feeling of awe which filled us 
when we stood on the Eau Noire bridge, 
which connects France with Switzerland. 
To choose which country we should step 
to, just as if we had a fairy wishing-cap, 
made delicious thrills run up and down our 
happy bodies. 

There were many people coming from 



A Too Short Vacation. 143 

Martigny on the road. The women tried 
to look superior, and, I suppose, so many 
superstitions and shams are attached to the 
word comfort, they may really have felt as 
they looked ; but the men were always cor- 
dial and admiring, with the single exception 
of a pale-faced misanthrope with two mules 
(one for his luggage) and a guide, who con- 
fided to the air in front of him, in a falsetto 
voice, that we were, — 

" Two brave ladies !" 

The inn at Chatelard, where, after the 
mishap of the morning, we had expected 
to spend the night, was cheap and looked 
clean ; but we were not tired, we were wet, 
and it was too early for dinner and bed. 
Moreover, there was the Pont Mysterieux 
at Tete Noire to be seen, and nothing in 
particular at Chatelard. 

While we were debating the pros and 
cons, the proprietor and chambermaid came 
out of the house and watched our hesita- 
tion with alternating hope and fear. In- 



144 A Too Short Vacation. 

deed, I do not believe that they quite gave 
us up until we were out of sight. 

After walking another hour, the road, 
which was very narrow and cut out of the 
rocky side of the mountain overlooking a 
deep valley, pierced a rock and brought us 
in sight of the inn. Prudentia declared 
that it was the grim determination that 
she read in my eye, that made the sleepy, 
heavy-looking proprietress come down 
from six to four francs, on condition that 
we went up another flight, and then give 
us the first room for the last price. After 
a delicious dinner, we went to sleep to the 
sound of tinkling cow-bells, and a pleased 
remembrance of Alphonse Daudet's name 
on the hotel register. 

Early the next morning we put on our 
now thoroughly dried and cleaned gar- 
ments, and walked to Martigny. I remem- 
ber the beautiful Glacier of Trient and the 
fine view of the Rhone Valley with pleasure, 
but the walk as a whole was not nearly as 
interesting as that of the day before, and 






A Too Short Vacation. 145 

we regretted that we had not returned to 
Chatelard to take the Salvan route to Ver- 
nayaz, or, better still, cut across from the 
Tete Noire to Finhaut. 

Martigny is a beautiful little town sur- 
rounded by hills, on one of which is perched 
the old castle of the Bishops of Sion. It 
was gayly decorated with flags and trees, 
" In honor of the fete," said a little boy. 
" What fete ?" staggered him ; but he ran 
after us to lisp out, " The sixth hundredth 
anniversary of our independence." 

Every town must celebrate on a different 
day, and they seem, too, to have had our 
itinerary in mind, for it was always the day 
of our arrival. 

The visitor's book was so full of refer- 
ences to the excellent attendance and our 
waitress was so pretty that Prudentia's 
always easily-awakened suspicions were 
aroused. I told her that it was starred in 
Baedeker, which apparently convinced her 
of its respectability. What did people do 
before that book was written ? 



146 A Too Short Vacation. 

The pretty waitress assured us that the 
dinner was excellent, so we took table 
d'hote, a function not ordinarily popular 
with us. It is such a melancholy ordeal ! 
A solemn silence prevails ; the bashful ones 
keep their eyes cast down in the fear of 
encountering the others ; the swaggering 
ones look boldly around, and pretend that 
they do not care ; the nervous ones feebly 
play with the salt-cellar, until suddenly 
remembering that it is not good form, they 
guiltily drop it. Just as we are expecting 
the funeral service to begin, the soup is 
brought in. Then the plates are cleaned 
one after another, according to the particu- 
lar style of each manipulator of the knife 
and fork. The style in greatest favor is 
" The Expeditious." They mercifully in- 
form you of the name of the approaching 
dish, but that by no means always prepares 
you for what appears on the plate ! One 
has only a veto power, no choice either of 
comestibles or company. Yet we heard a 
lady give as a convincing proof of the satis- 






A Too Short Vacation. 147 

factory arrangements of Cook's Eastern 
tours, that while they were camping out 
in Arabia, they yet had table d'hote every 
day ! 

This time it was not so bad, for, with one 
exception, our companions were Germans, 
who said their say in a hearty, jovial way 
that was refreshing. The exception was 
an Englishman, who ate with a pocket 
dictionary, and took possession of us with 
an enthusiasm that we could not reciprocate. 
He confided to us that, — 

" Travelling is lonesome, don't you know. 
One is always meeting such a lot of people, 
don't you know, only to lose them again." 

We did not know, but it was a mitigating 
circumstance that we could look forward to 
losing sight of him. 

The dinner was good, but the famous 
Lamarque wine, known and praised by the 
Romans, was so long in coming, the label 
was so damp with the paste, and the flavor 
of the wine was so ordinary, that we sus- 
pected that only the price was genuine. 



148 A Too Short Vacation. 

At five the next morning there was a 
serenade underneath our window. The 
chimes of the neighboring church took up 
one of the airs, and streams of people, some 
of them in the beautiful gala dress of the 
peasants, went past to mass. 

We stopped over a train at St. Maurice, 
with the intention of visiting its ancient 
monastery, but it was not the chalice of 
Queen Bertha, nor yet the Gospels of 
Charlemagne, that roused us to enthusiasm ; 
instead, a pathetic little monument to three 
brothers. 

Prudentia said the monastery, the first 
in Switzerland, would be yet more ancient 
had the lord of St. Maurice kept his vow. 
Being without an heir, he besought Heaven, 
with tears and bribes, to give him a son, 
one of the most frequent of his promises 
being the erection of a handsome monas- 
tery. Time went by ; Heaven, allured by 
his magnificent proposals, — or, perhaps, in 
supernal generosity, — sent him, not one 
child, but three — triplets. 



A Too Short Vacation. 



149 



Secure in the number of his offspring, 
and more anxious to provide for them 
properly on earth than to propitiate a 
Heaven which seemed easily satisfied with 
promises, he put off the building of the 




monastery from day to day and from year 
to year. They had whooping-cough and 
measles successively, but the poor, confi- 
dent father refused to be warned. Even 
chicken-pox did not alarm him. Imagine, 



150 A Too Short Vacation. 

then, his despair when a green cucumber 
ended their lives ! The monastery was 
built at last, but its first inmate was the 
repentant and heart-broken father. 

The band played enticingly at Bouveret, 
but we lingered not, and hastened to the 
boat. For a long distance the swift, gray 
current of the Rhone is sharply outlined 
in the blue waters of the lake. This day a 
week we saw it rushing from the lake with 
the same impetuosity that it now sought it. 
" The little isle which in my face did smile" 
looked too much like Rousseau's Isle, with 
its trees and geometrical boundaries. Chil- 
lon, too, disappointed us. To hear a pretty 
peasant-girl, her arm twined affectionately 
around the waist of another, who was evi- 
dently learning the trade, — perhaps because 
of No. i's approaching nuptials, — recite, in 
a precise, sweet voice, with dates, those 
stories over which we had wept in our 
childhood, took away most of their interest 
and horror, and the open-mouthed, vacant- 
eyed crowd made away with the rest. We 



A Too Short Vacation. 151 

tried to be either first or last, and, when we 
succeeded, all our old awe came back with 
a rush. After the others left the dungeons, 




we managed hastily and guiltily to walk in 
the circle Bonnivard's feet had worn in the 
floor of rock. Still the names on the 
pillars, Byron, Sue, George Sand, Victor 
Hugo, and, on the wall further on, our own 
Shelley, touched us more than the story 
of Bonnivard, for, after all, did he not die 
a respectable and highly respected citizen ? 
The oubliettes, whose horror we could only 



152 A Too Short Vacation. 

guess at, for their knife-lined rocks could 
not be seen, so deep and dark was the 
cavern, seemed less dreadful than the burnt 
places where the torturing-iron had missed 
the flesh and seared the wood instead. The 
chapel and my lady's chamber contained 
finer carving than one would expect to see 
in the home of such primitive cruelty, but 
perhaps the Countess Peter was more dainty 
than her lord. 

We were fond of Freiburg from the be- 
ginning. One of the first things that we 
stumbled upon in our walk through the 
town, which is picturesquely built on a 
rocky hill surrounded by the Sarine River, 
was an old, old, lime-tree supported by 
stone pillars. Through the hollow trunk 
grew a younger, presumably slipt from the 
older. The story is that it came from a 
twig carried by a young Freiburgian who, 
in his anxiety to carry the good news of 
Morat to his native city, forgot his wounds 
and weakness. He had only the strength 
left to gasp out " Victory," and died. The 



A Too Short Vacation. 



153 



identical story paraphrased from Euripides 
by Browning, is it not ? 




Some of the suspension bridges were 
anchored in the hills themselves, and the 
massive iron ropes of others went through 
houses. At the end of one was a curious 
building dug out of the solid rock. In the 
middle of the wall was a charming little 
Madonna shrine. 



154 A Too Short Vacation. 

One of Freiburg's daughters, the Duch- 
ess Adela Colonna, " Marcello," has be- 




queathed her gallery of paintings and her 
own sculptures to the town. I suppose 
that the latter were good, — portraits, 
mostly, — but we could not help feeling 
that she bought better than she wrought. 

The famous organ was well played ; 
" Walkure" and "William Tell" we recog- 
nized. It was very full and powerful, and 
the Vox Humana more like Vox Angeli. 

Bern was a revelation of snow moun- 



A Too Short Vacation. 



155 



tains. From every open high place the 
peaks of the Berner-Oberland can be seen 
in fine weather, particularly at evening, 
when we would sit for hours waiting for 
the Alpengluhen. 

The other side of Bern is the mediaeval. 
Every one knows of the famous ogre 




fountain, the little man upon it devouring 
children with as much gusto now as if they 
had not been his daily food for three cen- 



156 



A Too Short Vacation. 



turies. Then there is Samson, the Bag- 
piper, Themis, the Bear in Armor, — when- 
ever one looks out from the covered 
Lauben, — which are like Chester's Rows, — 
one sees some hitherto unobserved conceit 
in the fountain line. 




The famous clock was being repaired, 
but we forgave it, for bears were every- 
where, from the gingerbread, chocolate, and 
frosting ones for which I sighed, but upon 
which Prudentia frowned, to the real live 
ones, who prance and caper about as gayly 
as if they had never eaten the poor British 



A Too Short Vacation. 



157 



officer who fell in the den one dinner-time. 
To be a bear in Bern is to be a prince ; but 
the next best thing must be to be born able 
to sit all day in the cushioned window-seats 
which belong to every house. 




The Thun steamer was frightfully 
crowded. We fancied that a " Cook," or 
" Gaze, Personally Conducted" was on 
board, and we ran right into the jaws of a 
so-called " Private Party," in making room 
for a poor little old woman, who evidently 
felt that she could only express her grati- 
tude adequately by friendly conversation. 



158 A Too Short Vacation. 

" How many are there in your party ?" 
she asked, in gentle falsetto. 

" Only we two." 

" Oh !" she said, trying to conceal her 
astonishment. " We have thirty in ours. 
Mr. Brown takes us around. Perhaps 
you know him, — Mr. Brown of Brook- 
lyn? 

" Why, there he is now," she added, as a 
fat, perspiring, ignorant-looking man came 
up, brusquely tearing off the old lady's 
coupons. A few minutes later, we saw him 
in excited converse with an official who 
answered his blustering English, " It's all 
right," by quietly pointing out to him the 
statement on the ticket that the coupon 
without the cover was valueless. Mr. B. 
seemed disposed still further to argue the 
matter, from which we concluded that 
he neither spoke French nor read Eng- 
lish. 

If Mr. Brown left the little old woman to 
her own devices, she did not have a similar 
amount of confidence in us ; for each time 



A Too Short Vacation. 159 

that we started up to look at anything, she 
hastened to reassure us with, — 

" Mr. Brown will tell us when it is time 
to get off, and I will tell you." All of 
which led us to reflect on the halo thrown 
about incompetence and ignorance when 
equipped with trousers. 

As soon as we had settled ourselves at 
the hotel in Interlaken, we walked to the 
Hoheweg, just in time to see the famous 
view of the Jungfrau, rising so white and 
still above the darker hills. Almost imme- 
diately it began to cloud over, and we never 
saw it again, or anything else in Interlaken 
except the shops, which were enjoyable 
enough, to be sure. Still they were not 
what we came for ; so, in hopes that we 
might strike better weather later, we made 
a trip to Giessbach. One ascends and 
descends the mountain in cars connected 
by a rope of wire, which runs over a mov- 
able pulley at the top. As one heavily 
loaded with water descends, its weight 
pulls up the other. It is a delightfully 



160 A Too Short Vacation. 

cheap arrangement, and safe, too, for the 
brakes are strong and instantaneous in their 
action. We spent the afternoon exploring 
above and underneath the beautiful fall, 
which makes seven leaps before it enters 
the lake at last, nearly twelve hundred feet 
from its source. At night we sat before it 
awaiting the illumination, not particularly 
disposed to be enraptured. A few Roman 
candles went up. We looked at each other. 

" I wish that I had put my franc in carved 
wood," said we both. 

In another moment we were glad to be 
there, such marvellous colors the foamy 
waters took. All too soon the violet turned 
to blue, the blue to green, the green to red, 
whose last pink glow faded away and left 
us in darkness. 

It rained again in Interlaken, forcing us 
to take the train to Lauterbrunnen. We 
had hardly started before the sun came out 
and filled us with regret that we had not 
walked. On all sides rose the magnificent 
mountains, old friends and two new ones, — 



A Too Short Vacation. 161 

the Wetterhorn and a pillar-shaped hill of 
rock the name of which I have forgotten. 
We had expected to go by the new rail- 
road to Miirren, from which point, accord- 
ing to many, the most magnificent view in 
Switzerland may be had. I carefully con- 
cealed from Prudentia that there had been 
an accident the first time that it had run, 
but I might just as well have relieved my 
mind, for it was not yet running again. 
Three times we started to walk up the path, 
which was unmentionably muddy on ac- 
count of the continuous rain, and then, as 
we really had not time, gave it up unwil- 
lingly and started for a nearer view of the 
Staubbach, a long, slender veil of mist 
floating down from one of the perpendicu- 
lar rocks which shut in Lauterbrunnen. 
The Trummelsbach, farther on, has a 
greater volume of water ; the round basin 
which it has worn is interesting, and 
though, perhaps, less well known, is more 
popular among those who do visit it, but it 



l62 



A Too Short Vacation. 



had not for us the wonderful, dainty charm 
of the Dust-Brook. 




After a few abortive attempts to buy 
carved wood as cheap as we had seen it in 
Interlaken, we started for the Wengern, not 
by the usual path, which we did not bother 
to find, for we knew the general direction. 
Hardly had we left the main road when we 
were besieged by guides of all ages. Finally 
they left us in disgust, except one small boy, 
who persistently followed us, saying, — 

" Sie sind nicht auf dem rechten Weg. 
Sie sind nicht auf dem rechten Weg." 
(You are not on the right road.) 

To our repeated shrugs he would invari- 
ably answer, — 

" Ich luge nicht. Ich kann nicht lugen. 



A Too Short Vacation. 163 

Sie sind nicht auf dem rechten Weg." (I 
do not lie. I cannot lie. You are not on 
the right road.) 

Finally Prudentia said to him, — 

" Das wissen wir wohl, aber wir gehen 
nach dem Wengern nicht." 

She does invest her most preposterous 
falsehoods with a most deceptive air of 
truth; still we were both astonished, as well 
as relieved, when, apparently suddenly con- 
vinced of the uselessness of his pursuit, he 
left us. 

The road was distinctly bad, in spite of 
Baedeker's assurance to the contrary, but it 
was interesting, and we were sufficiently 
comfortable not to be discouraged by the 
advice of people descending, who all ad- 
vised us, in a variety of languages, not to 
go on, saying that the mud was knee-deep. 
We did not believe that it could be worse, 
first, because nothing muddier could be 
imagined, indeed, we had never seen any- 
thing so bad, and then the shoes of our 
advisers looked about like our own. So on 



164 A Too Short Vacation. 

we jogged contentedly, listening to the mar- 
vellous echoes and looking back on dark 
Lauterbrunnen, with Miirren high above ; 
but it did get worse, too bad to be thought 
of, much less mentioned in polite society. 
Even our short skirts were loaded with 
mud. But we were full of rapture when 
the gigantic Jungfrau, flanked on either side 
by the Schnee Horn and the Silber Horn, 
loomed up before us, pink in the setting 
sun, and seemingly so near that we could 
almost touch them. Chamouni showed us 
nothing to compare with it. 

With surprise we recognized a little boy 
rushing down the path as our would-be 
guide of the morning, and greeted him 
cordially with, — 

" Guten Abend, Kindchen." 

" Sie sind nach dem Wengern gegangen. 
Sie haben mich betriigen, — betrugen" 
(You went to the Wengern. You have de- 
ceived me, — deceived me), he screamed at 
us with angry emphasis, evidently feeling 
outraged at our conduct, and either for- 



A Too Short Vacation. 165 

getting his own little lie, or else thinking it 
quite venial. 

After a fine dinner we went up-stairs to 
our room, which looked out on the snow 
mountains, and rang for the porter to attend 
to our clothes. Something or other was 
forgotten; we rushed to the door to call him 
back, and beheld him nearly doubled up 
with amusement and astonishment, — not at 
the mud, but at our spring-heeled shoes. 
It is impossible to tell how they manage it, 
but even German men and women walk in 
pointed-toed, rather high-heeled, shoes. 

It was so very cold that we each got in 
the same bed and piled on top of us both 
feather-beds and sets of blankets. Pruden- 
tia woke up early (/ sleep always the deep 
sleep of innocence), and was rewarded by a 
glowing Jungfrau, with a solitary star at its 
very tip. Would you credit the meanness, 
the perfidy of her? She crawled quietly 
back to bed and told me of it three hours 
later. 

Early the next morning we set forth on 



1 66 A Too Short Vacation. 

the excellent road to the Scheidegg, hear- 
ing, though not seeing, many avalanches. 
Beyond, however, the steep, uninteresting 
descent to Grindehvald was a marsh, and to 
add to our discomfort it began to rain hard. 
We were just as wet as we could be, and 
for that very reason I wanted to push on at 
once to the pink glacier of Rosenlaui, 
visiting on the way the well-known, but 
very ordinary, ones at Grindehvald. For 
the first and only time, Prudentia wanted 
to do the opposite, and take the train to 
Interlaken for Meyringen. 

" We are wet through. It would not be 
safe to sit in the cars," I said, using the 
argument most likely to influence her. 

" The roads are frightful ; we might be 
too used-up to walk over the Grimsel," 
said she, trying to touch my vulnerable 
point. 

After lengthy arguments on both sides, 
we each became overwhelmingly polite, 
offering effusively to do as the other wished. 
But even this did not persuade either of 



A Too Short Vacation. 167 

us, so finally we threw up a coin, — heads, 
feet ; tails, rail. 

Tails came up. 

" Best out of three," said I, hastily. 

Tails, the second time. 

Tails, the third time. 

Very unwillingly I bought the tickets for 
Interlaken, and very eloquently I talked of 
the Wetterhorn, the beautiful rose-colored 
glacier of Rosenlaui, the Reichenbach 
Falls. Prudentia listened unmoved. Then 
I complained bitterly of the cold, my damp 
clothes, my aching bones. In vain. She 
afterwards told me that she kept saying to 
herself, — 

" Well, if she were doing what she 
wished, she would be warm as wool and 
dry as a bone," which enabled her to re- 
main firm. 

In Interlaken we had time enough to 
buy some of the carved wood that we had 
before refrained from, under the delusion 
that we could get it cheaper and better in 
Lauterbrunnen. We went to the banker's, 



1 68 A Too Short Vacation. 

too, and all in the pouring rain. I called 
Prudentia's attention to the fact that in 
spite of this we were much more comfort- 
able than we had been in the train, but she 
wilfully refused to see the application. 

To our great delight, the sun was very 
bright the next day, and we set out for the 
Grimsel in the most excellent spirits. Our 
hotel at Meyringen had been cheap and 
clean, the breakfast good (the waitress 
actually wanted to refill the jar of honey 
that we had shamelessly emptied), and we 
had succeeded in getting our shoes mended. 

The road was dry to the foot and pictu- 
resque to the eye, passing numberless cas- 
cades, piercing through rocks, and once 
going underneath a broad sheet of water. 
Suggestive of fearful storms were the fields, 
covered with stones and debris, while the 
roofs of all the houses were weighted down 
with heavy stones. 

Even the rainbowy ham and bottled beer 
of the only inn at Guttannen did not subdue 
our high spirits. As for the Schweitzer 






A Too Short Vacation. 



169 



cheese, it gives Prudentia's nose a perpet- 
ual surprise. She cannot understand why, 
with so many holes in it, it seems so badly 




ventilated. From there on we were in a 
continual state of delight over the wildness 
of the route. Huge masses of rock were 
in our path, across which the festive chamois 
leaped occasionally. We crossed the foam- 
ing Aar many times, and looking down 
could pick out all sorts of fantastic shapes 
worn by its swift gray waters. And then 
the magnificent Falls of Handegg, — as high 



170 A Too Short Vacation. 

as Montmorency, but infinitely swifter, and 
with thousands of rainbows in the great 
cloud of mist which apparently rebounds 
half-way up from the depths below. 

We met a good many pedestrians, mostly 
Germans, with whom I exchanged the 
cheerful " Guten Morgen." Looking back, 
I frequently discovered Prudentia in deep 
converse with them ; but to all my curious 
questions she responded, — 

" I remarked that the pepper of the 
country was fine." 

A little boy-friend of mine, who had 
visited Albany, was listening to an account 
of the trip with the greatest eagerness, 
evidently anxious to get in a word, and not 
to be left entirely out of the conversation. 
Finally, there was a slight pause, which 
he filled by saying, with the utmost 
vivacity, — 

" And oh, aunty, wasn't the pepper fine 
there ?" 

Gradually the road became lonelier. No 
one seemed to be going our way, and we 






A Too Short Vacation. 171 

had not met any travellers from the Grimsel 
for quite a while, until suddenly, sitting on 
a rock, I espied a friend (Prudentia insists 
upon saying that when she has suddenly 
sat upon a rock her vision has been stellar 
rather than friendly) whom I had fancied 
that I had stupidly passed in a walk through 
Saxon Switzerland two years before. The 
three of us sat down to talk for a while, 
compare itineraries, and arrange for a future 
meeting. All this took time ; sunset was 
near, and yet we had a two-hours' walk 
before us, with no human habitation on the 
road except two chalets. Prudentia was 
worried. The bleak, desolate valley, — veg- 
etation had long since disappeared, — shut 
in by rocky, precipitous mountains, sug- 
gested all sorts of disasters, with no one to 
tell the tale. I suggested that no one ever 
heard of such things in Switzerland ; that 
they could not afford to have it happen, for 
their living depended on the comfort of 
travellers. In vain, Prudentia insisted that 
the lucky villain who saw us would not 



172 A Too Short Vacation. 

be likely to be dissuaded by abstract ideas 
of patriotism. 

At last, after an hour's walk (in spite of 
our haste, we stopped to look at the scene 
behind and at each side of us), we reached 
the two chalets, and saw, milking his eoat, 
the first human being since our three-cor- 
nered conversation. It was seven o'clock, 
we had eaten a very slight breakfast, and 
almost nothing for lunch ; so, though we 
had another hour before us, we asked him 
for some cold goat's milk (to which we 
added, to his great delight, a " drap o' 
poteen"), and, giving him the usual coin, 
we departed, refreshed by the milk and his 
gratitude. He might have been that simple 
peasant to whom, at his own request, the 
French had given Ratherrichsboden, the 
rocky, unproductive land around the cha- 
lets, because he had guided them over the 
Grimsel to the Austrian encampment. The 
Swiss government annulled the grant, so I 
suppose that it could not have been he, but we 
were always sorry that we did not ask him. 



A Too Short Vacation. 173 

Shortly after, I happened to look up, and 
there, on the height above us, stood two 
men, looking at us and gesticulating vio- 
lently. Unfortunately, I said nothing to 
Prudentia, and when they finally clattered 
down upon us with a wild whoop, she 
bruised my arm in her fright. And that 
was the worst that happened to us. They 
were guides, who merely wished to say, 
"Guten Abend;" and ask, with friendly 
curiosity, " Gehen sie nach dem Grimsel ?" 




We reached the Hospice just before 
night fell, fortunately, for, when darkness 
comes here, it comes rapidly. The house 



T74 A Too Short Vacation. 

was built originally for poor travellers, and 
the rooms, in consequence, are very small, 
with the thinnest of partitions ; but the 
dinner was excellent, the whole place de- 
lightfully quaint and clean. Inside, every- 
thing was cheerful, from the Frenchman in 
knickerbockers, who waltzed around the 
room alone to his own whistling, to the 
German in a skull-cap, whose surprising 
music-boxes and fine carvings found many 
admirers, but few purchasers. Outside, 
everything was dreary, from the poor 
cattle trying to find grass on the stones 
to the brackish little lake in which no fish 
can live. The Todten See, farther on, re- 
sembles it, but it has a gorier history, for 
here both the Austrians and the French 
buried their dead after the battle that fol- 
lowed the surprise of the Austrians by the 
French, led to the spot by the guide of 
whom I spoke before. 

We almost slid down the steep hill in our 
eagerness to reach the " frozen cascade" of 
the Rhone Glacier, from which flow, in the 



A Too Short Vacation. 175 

midst of the debris, the gray, gray waters 
of the infant Rhone, so narrow that we 
could step across it. The Grotto, a long 
passage in the clear, blue ice, taking one 
some distance into the glacier, was inter- 
esting. The curious light made us look so 
like ghosts that we did not dare to talk 
until we were safely out. The most mag- 
nificent views of the glacier are on the 
Furka road, which ascends from the hotel 
high above it. Here one has very fine 
views of the snow mountains, the Furka- 
horn, with its heavy ledge of snow, attract- 
ing us particularly by its fantastic appear- 
ance. 

At Andermatt, in a little chapel, is placed, 
over the door, a box of skulls, many of them 
bearing a paper tag with a name, presumably 
that of the original owner. One poor, sin- 
ful mortal had been stood on his head. We 
never succeeded in discovering the whys 
and wherefores of the curious case, though 
we asked several priests who might be 
expected to know. It is plainly not a 



176 



A Too Short Vacation. 



sight for tourists, for two reasons, — there 
was no one around to receive a fee, and 
then there were two black bottles behind 
the small pulpit. We unwittingly added 
two incongruous things to our picture, — 
the net bag and the two alpenstocks. 




Andermatt is the chief town of the valley 
of Urseren, of which it is said that it is 
winter eight months, and cold the other 
four. From this valley, the Urner Loch, 



A Too Short Vacation. iy/ 

a seventy-yard hole in the solid rock, leads 
to the wild scenery of the Devil's Bridge. 
It seems a great pity that the so-called 
American idea of advertising on the rocks 
should be allowed to intrude here. We 
wished that the aptly-termed " hat-rogue" 
wind could carry off the more pressing of 
the hotel invitations " to come into my 
chamber." 

From Goschenen to Amsteg the St. Gott- 
hard road darts through hills and winds 
around itself in the most perplexing way. 
It travels miles and advances not at all. 
Luckily, the scenery rewards one for the 
scrutiny one must give it. Prudentia was 
constantly possessed of a mysterious illu- 
sion that we were taking the wrong train, — 
mysterious because no experience of this 
sort gave it birth. In fact, even a stupid 
person could not make such a mistake here, 
where they carefully examine the tickets 
before the train starts, and tenderly give any 
one who is where he does not belong the 
" grand bounce." 



178 A Too Short Vacation. 

She generally struggles silently with her 
unbelief, and only attempts to reassure her- 
self by surreptitious glances at the tickets 
of her neighbors, or by taking an official 
into an obscure corner, where she hopes 
that I cannot see her, and asking him as 
many questions as that patient creature 
will endure. Now, in going over the St. 
Gotthard road, she was convinced that we 
had taken an excursion train and would 
spend the whole day in exciting trips 
between Goschenen and Amsteg. Her 
anxiety as the train continued to travel 
backward increased, and finally she could 
not help expressing it to a German who 
sat near. He replied, — 

" Geben Sie sich kein Acht. Der Schaff- 
ner hat sein Taschentuch vergessen, und da 
gehen wir zuriick !" (Don't be alarmed. 
The conductor has forgotten his handker- 
chief. That is why we are going back.) 

We would have given a good deal for 
the same leisurely progress later on, that 
we might have observed with more ease the 






A Too Short Vacation. 179 

places associated with Schiller's " William 
Tell," — Zwing Uri, Gessler's castle, — 

" Zwing Uri soil sie heissen, 
Denn unter dieses Joch wird man euch beugen." 

Then came Attinghaussen's death-place, 
and Altdorf, where he shot the apple from 
his son's head. Above the monastery is 
the Bannwald of which Schiller speaks, 
where now, as then, no woodman's axe is 
ever heard, for now, as then, it protects 
Altdorf from the falling rocks. 

Tell. Die Baiime sind gebannt, das ist die Wahrheit. 
Siehst du die Firnen dort, die weissen Horner 
Die hoch bis in dem Himmel sich verlieren ? 

Walther. Das sind die Gletcher, die des Nachts so 
donnern 
Und uns die Schlaglawine niedersenden. 

Tell. So ist's, und die Lawine hatten langst 
Den Flecken Altdorf unter ihrer Last 
Verschuttet, wenn der Wald dort oben nicht 
Als eine Landwehr sich dagegen stellte. 

From Fluelen one may walk to Tell's 
Chapel by the Axenstrasse, a broad, level 
street, cut half-way up the mountain-side, 



180 A Too Short Vacation. 

often piercing the oddly-twisted rocks. 
The chapel is said to have been originally 
built by the people of Uri, shortly after 
TelFs famous leap there from Gessler's boat, 
and in commemoration thereof. 

" Ich kenn', es ist am Fuss des grossen Axen." 

The present chapel, though picturesque, 
is plainly modern. Once a year the people 
assemble, and, in their gayly-decorated 
boats, listen to the Mass that is said there. 

Further on is the Rutli, — 

" Der Bergweg Sfifnet sich nur frisch mir an ! 
Den Fels erkenn' ich und das Kreuzlein drauf ; 
Wir sind am Ziel, hier ist das Rutli," 

— that meadow where the Swiss assembled 
and swore to free the country from Aus- 
trian oppression. Where three of them 
took the oath, the three springs burst forth, 
says tradition. 

" These beautiful mountains," said I to 
Prudentia, when we had settled ourselves 
in the boat. 



A Too Short Vacation. 181 

" The Three Graces," said she to me, 
indicating with her eyes three maidens of 
uncertain age, whose long-waisted forms 
and one-idea toilettes made each resemble 
the other like the proverbial pins on the 
same paper. English clergyman's daugh- 
ters, we thought. Each laughed feebly at 
the feeble remarks of the other, and each 
hung on the other's words with an en- 
thusiasm that was touching, as were their 
efforts to appear to be having a " perfectly 
glorious time." Only the mother had 
gotten beyond that. No wonder that she 
looked hopeless with such impossibles on 
her hands. 




13 



1 82 A Too Short Vacation. 

In front of us sat a loving couple whose 
elephantine caresses we quite enjoyed, 
thinking them to be poor German peas- 
ants, but when the man handed out the 
little green book of the Cook excursionists 
we mournfully turned our attention to the 
lake again. 

There is one thing in Lucerne that can 
never have disappointed any one, — the 
Lion. The finest picture, the cleverest 
carving, gives but the slightest idea of the 
grandeur of that great lion, who, in the 
agony of death, still protects the lilies of 
France. Aside from the sentimental and 
the historical interest, the artistic impression 
of the bold relief in gray stone hidden in a 
grove of trees, is sublime. 

The shops are full of carvings and casts, 
from one franc up to thirty. It seemed at 
first as if we would buy them all, but we 
finally contented ourselves with two modest 
five-franc affairs. Our next enthusiasm was 
for the beautiful handkerchiefs in the shop 
windows.— marvels of cobweb fineness and 



A Too Short Vacation. 183 

delicate embroidery, and yet costing only 
two and three francs. 

Next to the Lion and the handkerchiefs 
came the old Wasserthurm, which, when 
it was a light-house (lucerna), gave its 
name to the city. The bridges Longfellow 
had prepared us for. A bath taken in a 
sunken marble tub endeared the Muhlen- 
briicke to us more than the hour that we 
spent, at the risk of our necks, gazing up- 
wards at the ghastly " Dance of Death" 
pictures. 

In spite of the fact that grim Pilatus 
wielded his sword, a sure sign of foul 
weather, we waited on the quay for the 
boat that was to take us to the Rigi with 
some impatience. It was so late and I was 
so tired that I finally seated myself on a 
barrel. It was my duty to carry the sticks. 
Now that we were in the region of rail- 
roads, they seemed to excite as much 
curiosity as they would at home, and yet 
we did not dare to send them on to the 
steamer lest they, with their precious record 



184 A Too Short Vacation. 

of our tramp, should be broken. Shortly 
after I had made myself comfortable, I 
noticed with pain that Prudentia was trans- 
fixing with her eye an inoffensive-looking 
woman. As usual, the victim of her glance 
finally succumbed, though at first she made 
a brave show of indifference. I had noticed 
her before, looking at our sticks in a 
friendly sort of a way, trying to read the 
names of the places that descended spirally 
from the top. My sympathies were all with 
her, and, though I did not know her crime, 
I ventured to remonstrate with Prudentia, 
who replied, — 

" The impertinent creature was smiling 
at your patch. I do wish that you would 
not exhibit it so publicly ;" and, in spite 
of my representations to the contrary, she 
insisted upon believing her version of the 
smile, and pooh-poohed my theory of a 
kindly interest in our travels. She has no 
faith in human nature, — not even in our- 
selves, that is, in myself. 

Everybody pushed everybody else aside 



A Too Short Vacation. 185 

in his eagerness to step from the boat to 
the car. We, who were well in the rear, 
took a savage delight in seeing them all 
shooed back to the luggage-room, and a 
still greater pleasure when we discovered 
that one of the most pushing had to pay 
ten francs extra for his luggage. One can 
carry only ten pounds free, and the charge 
for overweight must be enormous, for the 
ten-franc man had only two ordinary-sized 
valises. It was just sunset. Suddenly, as 
we ascended, the lovely lake burst upon 
us, reflecting the red and gold of the sky, 
surrounded by mountains, dark Pilatus the 
chief. As we rose higher, the mountains 
behind became gradually visible. 

The hotel on the summit of Rigi-kulm 
is considered excellent, but, after paying 
twelve francs for a room that was as high 
as the price, we felt quite cold about its 
merits, a coldness that was increased the 
following morning by a wretched, uneat- 
able, undrinkable breakfast. 

We slept together under the two feather 



1 86 A Too Short Vacation. 

beds for the first time since our tramp, — 
that is, I did, for Prudentia, with her habit- 
ual distrust, roused herself every two min- 
utes to assure herself that it was not yet 
time to get up. Finally, she awoke me, — 

" Sanguinelle, I am sure that it is long 
past daybreak." 

" Nonsense," said I, " they awaken you 
with a bugle." 

" Did you ask ?" she persisted. 

" No, I did not; but Baedeker says so," 
said I, impatiently, turning over so as more 
effectually to close the conversation. 

But Prudentia had no intention of coming 
up the Rigi, like Mark Twain, to miss the 
sunrise. She threw open both shutters, 
and I was obliged to acknowledge that the 
darkness was not exactly Cimmerian. On 
the belvedere we could see one solitary 
man. Making a three-minute toilette, we 
hastened to join him, feeling like thieves 
as we stole down the seemingly unending 
stairs and through the quiet house. 

" Sunrise is not for two hours yet," 






A Too Short Vacation. 187 

was his gruff acknowledgment of our 
presence. We knew this to be a generous 
exaggeration, but did not understand the 
reason for his evident bad temper. We 
were too wide awake now to think of going 
back ; besides, we could see that daybreak 
was near at hand, for the stars were pale, 
and all around us rose the gray, spectral 
mountains. We had forgotten the Baede- 
ker, and, as it had the Rigi panorama, it 
seemed worth the while to go back for it. 
I was just in time to hear the pretty bugle- 
call in the house. At its very first notes, 
all kinds of fantastically-dressed and un- 
dressed people sprang into life. When I 
came out, I understood our friend's gruff- 
ness, for there he stood, the soi-disant bugler, 
with a silver plate in his hands, upon which 
I hard-heartedly refused to put a contribu- 
tion. 

By the time that I reached the belvedere 
again, the whole place was alive. The 
ubiquitous souvenir-sellers were plying 
their trade with the persistence of later 



1 88 A Too Short Vacation. 

hours. Soon the snow mountains next to 
Pilatus grew to rosiness, and we recognized 
them, with intense delight, as our old friends 
of the Berner-Oberland, the Jungfrau, the 
Monch, the Eiger, the Wetterhorn, and 
the Finsteraarhorn. Further on were the 
mountains of the Bliimlisalp, but we had 
not shaken hands with them, and felt, 
therefore, a more moderate pleasure in 
seeing them. Below us was a beautiful 
sea of mist, through which we could see 
gleams of Lucerne and other lakes which 
Baedeker helped us to place. 

" Und unter den Fussen, ein nebliges Meer, 
Erkennt er die Stadte der Menschen nicht mehr; 
Durch den Riss nur den Wolken 
Erblickt er die Welt, 
Tief unter den Wassern 
Das griinende Feld." 

The Zug boat was invaded by a school- 
picnic, led by a handsome priest and a 
picturesque, brown-cassocked monk, and 
chaperoned by a number of ladies, pre- 



A Too Slwrt Vacation. 189 

sumably teachers, who all had distinctly 
bad teeth, though not Americans. The 
children seemed very happy in a prim, 
quiet way, particularly when, in the inter- 
vals of their songs, the handsome priest 
came around. He had a kindly word for 
each, which they stood up to receive, some- 
times quite a while before he reached them. 
It was a day for schools. We had 
scarcely seated ourselves for lunch, in a 
dear little garden at Zug, before a half- 
dozen modest school-girls came in. After 
some conversation with the waitress, who 
plainly thought that they ought to come 
inside, where we could dimly see a sister 
and other girls eating, they sat down, each 
with a huge quart-mug of foaming beer. 
Almost before they had had time to raise 
it demurely to their lips, the sister inside, 
followed by her charges in single file, 
approached. They all rose respectfully, 
making, apparently, a satisfactory expla- 
nation, for she returned with the small 
army, and they sat down again to their 



190 A Too Short Vacation. 

beer. After a few sips, a middle-aged man 
appeared, evidently an acquaintance, and, 
ordering a cup of coffee, sat down beside 
them. There was awful horror on the 
sister's face as she looked out and saw 
them talking bashfully with him, and, with- 
out waiting for the little army to follow her, 
she dashed out, this time compelling them 
to return with her. Very shamefaced they 
looked, as, carrying their gigantic mugs, 
they obediently followed her, leaving the 
man half angry, half amused, and ourselves 
very sorry, but very much amused. In our 
country, the beer would have been the 
offence and the man a palliation. 

Baedeker does not put a star to Hotel 
Schloss Laufen, but otherwise it seemed to 
us to be the best place to stop. It was just 
above the Falls, so that we could see the 
illumination that night, and by getting up a 
little early, visit the Falls by daylight, and 
yet take the morning train for Schaffhausen. 
It was late when we arrived ; the guide- 
book gave their price as two francs a person 



A Too Short Vacation. 191 

for the room, which a card of theirs con- 
firmed, so that, for almost the first time, 
we did not ask for terms. Though we 
were there so short a time, the thermom- 
eter of our sentiments varied most errati- 
cally. 

Cold. — While eating our supper, we were 
told that it was a twenty minutes' walk to 
see the illumination, which would take place 
in exactly twenty minutes, — a coincidence 
that gave us no time for fine work in the 
way of mastication. Escorted by a maid 
carrying a miserable lantern, we ran up hill 
and down, discovering that the twenty 
minutes was no exaggeration, as we had 
fondly hoped ; but 

Hot. — A beautiful, illuminated castle 
above the Falls, we were astonished to 
find to be our hotel. Our host escorted 
me home, telling me of his trip to America 
to seek a fortune which he had not found 
there, and of the fortune that he had found 
at home in the shape of a wife, with the 
true German sentiment which I think 



192 A Too Short Vacation. 

charming. The porter fell to Prudentia's 
lot, and though he was certainly a little 
touched, she forgave him because he ad- 
mired her German effusively. 

Freezing. — We asked the next morning 
for our bill, and found that we had been 
charged ten francs for the room. Feeling 
that, though we had been imposed upon 
and cheated, — for the first time, too, — we 
deserved it for going to an unstarred hotel 
in the first place, and not making a bargain 
in the second place, we shook its dust from 
our feet and departed. 

The different points of view of the Falls 
in the grounds of Schloss Laufen are im- 
pressive on account of the immense mass 
of green, foaming water; but from Schlos- 
chen Worth, or even from the Schweizerhof, 
it is disappointing in spite of the volume, 
because of the lack of height. Our sym- 
pathies are all with those who think the 
Falls of Handegg finer, though I can 
understand that a longer and more intimate 
acquaintance might cause one to lose the 



A Too Short Vacation. 193 

feeling of disappointment that the passing 
traveller feels. 

Our only fellow-travellers on the road to 
Strassburg were two American gentlemen, 
travelling with Cook's tickets and hotel 
coupons, who, in a fever of anxiety, asked 
us if we could speak German. We told 
the conductor for them that they wished to 
stop off for the night at Triberg, and won- 
dered why they did not go on, for they did 
not look like Black Forest Explorers. 
Their gratitude was profuse and their 
curiosity evident. They alluded to parties 
of teachers travelling in Europe, but our 
indifference was so profound that their 
suspicions were lulled. They plainly 
thought that we must be public characters 
of some kind, for soon they suggested 
insinuatingly that we could give a fine lec- 
ture with the contents of our Kodak. 



IX. 

WE reached Strassburg in time to get 
comfortably settled in our room, 
eat a good dinner, and take a stroll, 
which naturally led us in the direction of 
the great Cathedral Twilight had already 
far advanced before we reached it, but, 
while the details were lost in the failing- 
light, the solemn grandeur of the great 
Dom was augmented. On the morrow San- 
guinelle kept her eyes wide open for storks 
and storks' nests. The storks, she deigned 
to enlighten me, are sacred to Strassburg, 
and did not desert the city even in the 
siege of 1870. Suddenly she espied a 
miserable specimen on top of a high chim- 
ney, and as a result of her enthusiasm my 
arm was disabled for the rest of the day. 
The facade of the Cathedral is particu- 
194 






A Too Short Vacation. 195 

larly beautiful, with its innumerable sculp- 
tures and delicate tracery. In the interior 
is the famous clock, and here, before the 
hour of noon, waiting for the automatical 
wonder to begin, we encountered our 
American acquaintances of the day before. 
They explained that they had not come on 
the day we had met them, because the por- 
ter of their hotel had wickedly led them to 
believe that the train did not arrive until 
eight in the evening ! But after all, they 
said, they were glad that they had stayed 
over, for they had had a most excellent 
dinner. They kindly explained the clock 
to us, having obtained their information 
from a guide, who, they innocently assured 
us, had tried both German and French on 
them to no avail. We naturally felt some 
uncertainty about the reliability of their 
knowledge, especially when one of them 
exclaimed, when the cock began to flap his 
wings, — 

" Oh, look at the eagle !" 

Three-fourths of the population of Strass- 



196 A Too Short Vacation. 

burg are soldiers, and the remaining fourth 
Alsatian bows. I do not quote these fig- 
ures from any statistical table ; it is merely 
the impression that the population makes 
on a stranger. Also, it would seem that 
every soldier was somebody's superior 
officer, whom it was de figueur to salute. 
The salutor in one street is the saluted in 
the next. Nor is salutation the affair of a 
second. The hand is raised to the cap, 
palm out, and remains rigidly placed there 
until the officer has passed. 

There was a strong fascination for us in 
Baden, a beautiful place on the edge of the 
Black Forest, with long avenues shaded by 
magnificent old trees, and a general air of 
leisurely holiday-making. We found our 
breathless, tourist speed giving way to this 
indolent, pleasure-seeking pace, as we 
sauntered gently to the Trinkhalle and 
drank of the hot springs, the efficacy of 
whose waters was known even to the 
Romans. In the evening we listened to 
the concert in the Cursaal, and looked in 






A Too Slwrt Vacation. 197 

vain for the people of wealth and fashion. 
Since the closing of the gaming-tables, 
Baden has become a mere health-resort. It 
has the gently melancholy air of one who 
has seen better days. As if she said, — 

" Oh, I am quite comfortable, thank you, 
but it is nothing like the style to which I 
have been accustomed !" 

The Old Castle is a picturesque ruin near 
Baden, parts of which date from the third 
century. It was the residence of the Mar- 
grave until he built himself the New Castle 
on a hill to the north of the town. The 
story is that during the prevalence of a 
pestilence, one of the Margravines shut 
herself up in the highest tower, with her 
two children, allowing no one to enter, and 
no one even to approach the castle, except 
an old and trusted servant, who brought 
provisions which she raised by a string to her 
apartment. One night, as she was giving 
thanks for her preservation and praying 
for a continuance of favor, she saw a vision 
of the hot springs and of the lovely con- 
14 



9 8 



A Too SJwrt Vacation. 



vent of Lichtenthal, to which an angel 
pointed after indicating the sleeping chil- 
dren. The next day she ordered the springs 
to be opened until the streets should be full 




of their steam. The pestilence was imme- 
diately stayed. Later, the daughter became 
the Abbess of Lichtenthal, and the son 
Bishop of Utrecht. 

The view from the top of the tower is 



A Too Short Vacation. 199 

extensive, stretching to a point even beyond 
Strassburg. In the foreground lies the 
beautiful valley of Baden, with its pretty 
villas in strong contrast to its sombre pine 
forests. 

We walked from the Castle to the town. 
Sanguinelle said, — 

" You keep to the road. I shall make 
some short cuts, and let us see where we 
will meet." 

Sanguinelle's cardinal principle is, " Never 
take the beaten track — in anything." She 
always prescribes it for me, however. We 
did not meet. I woke the echoes of the 
wood with fruitless cries for Sanguinelle. 
While I was thus employed, she returned 
to the hotel, reported her loss, and started 
out anew. As I was entering the town, I 
met her, and I feel certain that my words 
aroused her to a fuller appreciation of the 
serious responsibility that she had assumed 
in carrying me through Europe. We vis- 
ited the banker, and our strained relations 
were augmented by finding his doors 



200 A Too Short Vacation. 

closed, — not to us personally, I hope that 
is understood. It is the custom here to 
take a siesta from twelve to three. Our 
good temper was restored by the dinner, 
and we regretfully left Baden with our faces 
turned Frankfortward. 

I do not know what Frankfort thought 
had arrived within her gates that late after- 
noon. I only know that we created an 
immense sensation. The people were going 
in streams to the " Electrische Ausstellung," 
and we, with bag and alpenstocks, walked 
against the stream. We pushed on bravely 
to the hotel and found but one room vacant, 
for which an exorbitant price was demanded. 
We refused it, with the independence be- 
fitting perfectly wide-awake Americans, but 
we little knew what was in store for us. 
We knocked at two other hotels in the 
vicinity, and found them besetzt, in conse- 
quence of the aforesaid exposition. By 
this time a slight rain was falling, and the 
streets were growing deliciously muddy. 
We took a cab, and ended by being glad to 



A Too Short Vacation. 201 

get a room at ten francs and going to bed 
thoroughly out of humor. 

There are three things in Frankfort that 
no one can afford to miss, — the Romer, 
Goethe's house, and the Ariadneum. The 
first is attractive historically. The building 
itself is a beautiful Gothic structure, dating 
from the fifteenth century. It contains the 
Walibimmer, in which the German electors 
assembled to deliberate on the choice of an 
emperor, and the Kaisersaal, adorned with 
portraits of the emperors, in which the 
newly-chosen ruler dined with the electors 
and showed himself from the balcony to 
the people waiting on the Romersberg. 

In Goethe's house we saw the room in 
which the poet was born, his library, his 
sleeping-room, the desk, placed at the win- 
dow which commanded a view of the house 
of his first love, Gretchen, and on which he 
wrote his love-sonnets. The visitor can see, 
likewise, autograph letters and drawings, a 
lock of his hair, the cast of his hand, and 
numerous other relics. The guide in charge 



202 A Too Short Vacation. 

of the house not only permitted us to take 
breath (a rare indulgence on the part of 
guides in general), but joined in our enthu- 
siasm in the most cordial way, being evi- 
dently very proud of Unser Dicliter. 

Dannecker's Ariadne is one of the most 
magnificent works that mortal hand has 
ever produced to gladden mortal eye. It 
almost weakened our allegiance to the 
Venus de Milo. One must pass behind a 
curtain, and there, in a soft, rosy light, sits 
the beautiful nude figure of Ariadne on the 
back of the panther. It revolves slowly, 
showing first the majestic throat and bust, 
the slender limbs, the deliciously-poised 
head, — then the beautiful back, the tender 
pink soles of the feet. What a divinely 
beautiful thing is a woman's form ! This is 
the thought that springs to your lips as you 
gaze at the Ariadne. 

A quaint part of the town is the Jttden- 
gasse, or Jews' Street, which, as late as 
1806, was closed every evening and all day 
Sunday and holidays with lock and key, 



A Too Short Vacation. 203 

and none of the inhabitants permitted to 
enter the city. Originally, the Rothschilds 
lived in this quarter. 

It was Sunday afternoon when we 
arrived in Wiesbaden. The shops and 
churches were both open, and the worldly 
and devout formed two distinct streams. I 
proposed to Sanguinelle that we should go 
to church. She said yes, but she thought 
that she ought to have a pair of gloves, 
and she was really not able to find hers. 
Sanguinelle's only known use for gloves was 
to leave them under the table of a cafe, or 
in a cab as a tender little memento to the 
driver, or, if they really persisted in leaving 
town with her, she would tuck them away 
snugly in the railway-carriage. So, to make 
ourselves worthy of the devout throng, we 
were forced to join the heathen one and 
buy a pair of gloves, which Sanguinelle 
promptly left on the Rhine boat the next day. 

Wiesbaden, as the rival of Baden-Baden, 
presents too much the aspect of a city, 
though the suburban excursions — notably 



204 -A Too Short Vacation. 

the Neroberg, with its dainty Greek Tem- 
ple — are delightful. I suppose that the 
water might be worse, though to drink a 
glass of it and keep upon your lips the 
placid smile that played upon them before 
they touched the nauseating beverage re- 
quires fortitude of a high order. 

A bath in a German house must be 
troublesome to prepare. A stove stands in 
the corner of the room, and in this the ser- 
vant builds a great fire to heat the water. 
It heats, likewise, a great many other things. 
The room is about 250 Fahrenheit, and 
filled with the sound and odor of sizzling 
paint. You hate to lock the door and shut 
yourself up with that hot giant in the cor- 
ner, and you keep your eye fixed on him to 
see that he does not send his fiery tongues 
in your direction while you take your bath. 
After a little, to draw your breath becomes 
difficult, and you feel that you must fly 
or die. Instantly (minus one-half minute 
sacrificed to the tyranny of conventionality), 
you unlock the door and flee. 






A Too Short Vacation. 205 

We heard our neighbor in the hotel 
struggling with his German particles and 
trying to put enough words together to tell 
the patient Dienstmadchen that he wanted a 
bath at a certain hour. He was trying to 
be very grammatical, but he ended by being 
very profane. 

" Das Bad," he said, " no, der Bad oder 
die Bad. Oh, it's damn Bad/' 

The only interesting part of the Rhine is 
from Bingen to Bonn, so that we had plenty 
of time to observe our fellow-passengers. 
A German and his wife were the centre 
of amazed interest to every one on board. 
They ate perpetual lunches, and yet seemed 
to be afflicted with perpetual hunger — and 
thirst. These lunches they had brought 
with them in mammoth paper bags, and as 
the contents of one were stowed away, its 
successor made its appearance from under 
the table. 

In strong contrast to these were two 
young German pedestrians. We decided 
that they were students and poor, and that 



206 A Too Short Vacation. 

the suit of one of them was certainly made 
by his mother. They ordered a bottle of 
beer, and used the greatest ingenuity in 
making it last, eating with it small roils 
which they took from their pockets. 

A German family, a mother with two 
painfully plain daughters, insisted upon air- 
ing their passable English in a conversation 
with me, and I anxiously, but in vain, 
sought an opportunity to try on them my 
equally passable Deutsch. They were going 
down the Rhine, like epicures, from town 
to town, and from castle to castle, often on 
foot. I inadvertently confessed that we 
had sailed down the Rhine from Mainz to 
Cologne two years ago, and were sailing 
from Mainz to Cologne again to-day, to the 
fury and discomfiture of Sanguinelle, who 
never ceased to deplore the lack of time 
which made this method imperative. 

We thought that we knew Cologne, and 
reckoned that our hotel in Dom-Platz was 
very near. But the boat did not land us 
near the Dom-Platz, and after winding- 



A Too Short Vacation. 207 

through tortuous ways to reach the Dom, 
which all the time towered so close to us, 
apparently, we said, " Why is this thus ?" 
Suddenly we remembered that we had been 
beguiled into taking our tickets from the 
Netherlands Company on our previous 
visit, which, of course, landed at a differ- 
ent pier. Our hotel was full, and the one 
to which the polite waiter escorted us is 
patronized by the English chiefly. San- 
guinelle complained scornfully that the 
waiter insisted on talking English, trans- 
lating the menu, advising her what to order, 
and trying his best, poor fellow, to make 
the English strangers feel at home. Well, 
we most emphatically do not want to feel 
at home. We want it borne in upon us 
every moment that we are on our 
travels. 

The English and American traveller, as a 
rule, likes to fancy himself at home. He 
seeks on the menu the dishes to which he 
is accustomed, and he seeks on the streets 
for familiar faces, and only when he finds 



208 A Too Short Vacation. 

one or the other is he happy. Particularly 
is his joy great when he meets Jones, whom 
he knew slightly at home. He takes him 
literally to his arms ; he looks into his 
eyes with tender delight ; he asks, " When 
did you come over, old boy ?" and confides 
to him that " It's a deuced dull place, don't 
you know. Let's come around this way, — 
there is a place where they mix American 
drinks." 

The mystery is, — Why cross the ocean 
to search for familiar faces, when too often 
the quest — like hope deferred — maketh the 
heart sick ? 

It is only the American who scorns to 
practise economy in his travels, and who 
insists upon being regarded with awe and 
admiration because his per diem expenses 
reach an absurdly high figure. German or 
French travellers would be more likely to 
boast of their economies, and every coin 
passing through their fingers brings its 
full equivalent. Unnecessary outlay means 
ignorance and mismanagement. All of 



A Too Short Vacation. 209 

which was suggested by the colloquy of a 
German family near us, as to the smallest 
amount of coffee that they could order, 
with a reasonable hope of having a cup 
for each one for breakfast ! 

All our old affection for the Cathedral 
returned at the first glimpse of its lacy 
towers. Mine, indeed, had never wandered ; 
but fickle Sanguinelle had had fleeting pas- 
sions for others. Illuminated by the moon- 
light, as we saw it from our window, it 
would woo the most faithless soul back to 
his allegiance. 

At the door of St. Ursula, we met again 
our American friends. The party was 
swollen by several additions, among them 
a priest. I am sure that this gentleman 
was unconscious of the amazement with 
which his friends regarded him. 

" We are rejoiced to have met him. He 
has travelled this way before, and has helped 
us considerably," whispered one of them in 
my ear. 

" You may not believe it, but he is one of 



210 A Too Short Vacation. 

the brightest and best-read men that I ever 
encountered. I was never more surprised 
in my life !" 

I say that occasionally, I believe, there 
is a vara avis among them who can read ; 
but my sarcasm is lost on the retreating 
gentleman, who hurried away to catch the 
priest's account of the poor little virgins 
whose naked little bones decorate the ceil- 
ing and walls of the Goldcnc Kammer, in 
which we stood. 

" He actually believes all these stories ! 
It is wonderful, the credulity of these 
people !" came again, with a compassionate 
shake of the head. 

We were likewise a source of surprise to 
the reverend gentleman himself. 

" Even gentlemen have difficulty in get- 
ting along, especially in Germany." 

We must have convinced him that we 
were sufficiently well equipped to get 
along in Germany or anywhere else, for 
the shadow passed from his face and he 
wished us a cordial good-by, expressing 



A Too Short Vacation. 2 1 1 

a desire to meet us on our side of the 
Atlantic. 

There are fine shops in Cologne, and at 
night the brightly-illuminated windows and 
gay crowds make a brilliant sight. A street- 
car ride around the new boulevards showed 
us the handsome modern town, though I 
cannot say that it was particularly inter- 
esting. 

In each city the one commercial com- 
modity of interest to Sanguinelle was postal 
cards. She made at once, on our arrival, 
for the nearest promising shop, and greeted 
the proprietor with a demand for postal 
cards with views on them. Having made 
her purchase, she went into temporary re- 
tirement, and only emerged therefrom when 
they had all left her hands. In Cologne 
she had several bad spells of this sort, and 
one attacked her at the station on seeing 
some specimens that she had not yet 
secured. Needless to say, she immediately 
bought them, and while she was writing in 
the waiting-room, that Brussels train meanly 



212 A Too Short Vacation. 

sneaked off around the corner. This was 
unaccountable, — the German trains are 
usually so accommodating, and Sanguinelle 
was not really more than fifteen minutes 
writing her cards. I had seen it steal off, 
but reproved myself as sternly as she would 
have done for thinking that it was our 
train. I knew that I had a weakness for 
thinking that every train was our train — 
except the one that we were on ! It was 
only when on rounding the last curve it 
gave a malicious little toot, as if trying to 
suppress a diabolical mirth at our discom- 
fiture, that I took courage to go in to San- 
guinelle, and say, — 

" I think — I may be wrong, but I am 
afraid — that the train did not wait for 
us." 

" Nonsense," she replied, putting her last 
card in the box ; " let us go on board, though, 
to quiet your anxiety." 

" Not until ten o'clock to-night," said the 
station-master. 

Five hours to wait, and then to get our 



A Too Short Vacation. 213 

first glimpse of Brussels at the uncanny 
hour of four in the morning ! 

We consulted each other in painfully 
polished tones as to what was to be done. 
These occasions developed in each of us a 
genius for politeness, rivalling Chesterfield 
himself. 

We determined to employ the waiting 
hours in exploring Cologne anew, but we 
found it flat, stale, and unprofitable, even 
the Cathedral taking on the color of our 
chagrin and disappointment. 

We were not by any means the only late 
travellers to Brussels. Seven women, to 
say nothing of the dog, were crowded in 
that voiture pour dames. Each glared at 
the other, and wondered why she had not 
taken an earlier train. Then all the hostile 
forces united in one great congregate scowl 
focussed on the possessor of the dog. The 
animal, not at all deterred by unsympathetic 
repulses, sought a warm corner for his nose 
in the lap of every one in the compartment, 
while his mistress, equally indifferent to our 
15 



214 A Too Short Vacation. 

displeasure, settled herself comfortably in 
her shawls, and sweetly went to sleep. 
Later, when we changed cars, we dis- 
covered that she was English, and the 
guard's questions elicited the fact that she 
was bound for Calais, the people with whom 
she was travelling being in the sleeper 
ahead. 

" Yes, very much ahead," said the guard. 
" That section of the train goes on without 
delay. This only goes to Brussels." 

There was an additional sum due to make 
her ticket good ; but, as she said that she 
had not a pfennig, he shut the door, and we 
started. She gave expression to the most 
bitter reproaches for the people who had 
neglected her, but failed to enlighten her 
audience how she was related to them. 

On our arrival in Brussels, two American 
ladies, who had been our companions on 
the journey, took compassion on her ; the 
son of one of them, a manly young fellow, 
coming gallantly to her assistance in her 
struggle with her numerous boxes and 



A Too Short Vacation. 215 

traps, and we saw them all going off 
together, Bruno following contentedly in 
the rear. 

I could not feel for Brussels the enthusi- 
asm that it inspires in others. It is a copy, 
an echo, a silhouette of Paris. It has no 
strong, unique, or personal characteristic. 
Undoubtedly the old buildings are beautiful 
and the new ones magnificent, but even the 
Palais dc Justice becomes tiresome when 
the guide insists upon opening every room 
for your inspection, and waits expectantly 
for an enthusiastic expression of admira- 
tion. Of course, we admired it all collec- 
tively and in detail, but our list of French 
adjectives was not long enough to fit so 
many rooms without tiresome repetition. 
The lawyers, whom we saw in one of the 
court-rooms, aroused us to the greatest 
enthusiasm, they looked so handsome in 
their toga-like gowns, with collars of sheer, 
fine lawn. 

Just as we entered, a perplexed gentle- 
man was trying to make one of the guides, 



216 A Too Short Vacation. 

whom he had succeeded in cornering, un- 
derstand, in good, clear American, that he 
had lost his party, who were led by a cou- 
rier in a white hat. The little guide, with a 
scared, troubled look, had replied in equally 
good and clear French that he did not 
understand. If monsieur would only be 
good enough to remember that he did not 
speak English, etc. To this the American 
replied, — 

" A white cap, so — ," making circles 
around his head, under the impression that 
it was now extremely lucid. Sanguinelle, 
appealed to, helped the conversation on both 
sides, and the gentleman learned that his 
party had left some time before. He did 
not know the next place on the programme 
for the day, and seemed really afraid to set 
foot outside. He had better return to the 
hotel in a cab, he thought, and wait until 
some one of the party came back to take 
him out. We suggested that the car at 
the door would take him to the Picture 
Gallery, where, doubtless, the party had 



A Too Short Vacation. 217 

directed their steps, which led him to be- 
lieve that we were residents. We told him 
that only eight hours had passed since our 
arrival in Brussels. We felt quite unhappy 
at leaving him, — it was so like taking the 
proverbial last straw from the sinking man. 

Speaking of tramways, they are divided 
into first- and second-class places. The 
seats run transversely, and the row at the 
end, whose occupants sit with their backs 
to the horses, pay only half the regular 
fare. It was amusing to see the demand 
for these places. A lady with diamonds in 
her ears as large as the sou that she paid 
for her fare would crowd in between a 
workman and a cook, while the whole body 
of the car would be empty. 

In the shops English is spoken almost 
universally, and even the baby shopkeeper 
knows one English word, — cheap. It is 
hurled at you incessantly, as if they knew 
that it would go to the right spot. One 
little shopkeeper was treated to a genuine 
surprise. She was showing her yards of 



2i8 A Too Short Vacation. 

lace, and thrusting them upon us with her 
everlasting, — 

" It is sheep, madame, so sheep !" 

Sanguinelle said suddenly in her vehement 
way, — 

" I do not want it." 

" Mais," in her amazement relapsing into 
her mother tongue, " c'est tres, tres — 
sheep." 

" I do not want it because it is cheap. 
Bring me something tres, tres cher." She 
therefore indulged in some lace extrava- 
gance for her mother, which I declared 
that that lady should attribute to pique 
rather than filial devotion. 

They have ingenious little tricks for ad- 
vertising their wares that make you dis- 
trust them. A handkerchief will be 

marked FIVE FRANCS, ninety-five centimes. 

If you stop to look, you are urged to 
enter. Taking the lace in your hands, 
you may say, " What a beautiful hand- 
kerchief for five francs !" and no one will 
enlighten you ; but when you pay for the 



A Too Short Vacation. 219 

little parcel your attention is called to the 
ninety-five centimes in the corner. 

Since travellers have found out that 
" English Spoken" means " High Prices 
Here," some shopkeepers try to conceal 
their knowledge of English. We were 
.endeavoring to buy a spoon, — for, alas ! I 
had fallen a victim to the spoon mania, and, 
once embarked on the perilous voyage, there 
seemed no retreat. I had selected one not 
desirable at all, simply acceptable. The 
price was exorbitant. Up to this point, the 
conversation had been in French. San- 
guinelle said to me, — 

" I think it is too much." 

These few words effected a complete rev- 
olution in the man behind the counter. He 
became absolutely awful with anger. 

" You tink it too much, hey ? How you 
like dis vun for vun franc, hey ? You like 
him not, hey?" 

We said, " Bon soir, mon ami," and after 
we got out some one besides Bob swore, I 
am afraid. 



220 A Too Short Vacation. 

The interior of the Cathedral (Ste. Gu- 
dule) is more beautiful than the exterior, 
particularly the stained-glass windows of 
the Chapel of the Sacrament, and the pulpit, 
in marvellously-carved wood, the subject be- 
ing the expulsion from Paradise. Among 
the foliage are carved all kinds of animals, 
conspicuous among them a monkey eating 
an apple. The eye is distracted from the 
beauties of the Cathedral by the multitude 
of incongruous and incomprehensible things 
that it encounters. At least, so they must 
appear to any but a devoutly simple soul. 
Against the walls of some of the side 
chapels are pinned waxen hands, feet, 
fingers, legs, babies, eyes, ears, left there, 
no doubt, as grateful offerings for prayers 
heard and infirmities cured. Conspicuous 
in the centre of the Cathedral is a figure of 
" Our Lady of Deliverance," clad in a mag- 
nificently-embroidered and trained robe of 
velvet and silk. 

The Market-Place is a fine mediaeval 
square, fronting on which are the Hotel de 



A Too Short Vacation. 221 

Ville, a noble building, and the ancient 
Guild Houses,— the Guild of Butchers in- 
dicated by a swan ; the Hall of Carpenters 
adorned with gilding ; the Hall of Archers 
with a group representing Romulus and 
Remus with the She-wolf, etc. It was in 
this square that Egmont and Horn were 
executed, passing their last night in the 
Halle au Pain, opposite the Hotel de Ville, 
with which it was connected by a subterra- 
nean passage. 

The Manikin back of the Hotel de Ville 
was not dressed up in any of his gala cos- 
tumes. He has eight, be it known, and a 
valet who is appointed by the government 
and receives a salary. These are insignifi- 
cant honors in view of the fact that he was 
invested by Louis XV. with the cross of 
St. Louis. 

The Weird, that is, the Wiertz Museum, 
is a collection of the works of that eccen- 
tric master, purchased by the government 
after his death (he would sell none of his 
pictures, except the few portraits that he was 



222 A Too Short Vacation. 

induced to do, during his lifetime), together 
with the studio of the artist, in which they 
are now exhibited. Many of the pictures 
have been so arranged as artificially to 
heighten the weird effect. You look 
through a small aperture in the wall and 
find yourself the witness of a terrible 
scene, — a woman, famished with hunger," 
is cutting up the body of her child, a small 
foot and leg are already simmering in a pot 
over a few blazing logs. Through another 
eye-hole, a person buried alive has just 
burst his coffin lid, and, raising himself on 
one elbow, shows the horror of his situation 
by his fallen jaws and protruding eyes. At 
another, you are startled to find yourself 
assisting at the toilet of a young girl, and 
step back, thinking that you have unwit- 
tingly intruded in a private apartment. In 
the picture called " The Things of the 
Present before the Man of the Future," a 
giant holds in his mammoth palm a cannon, 
flags, ribbons, stars, orders. These baubles 
he is examining with benevolent curiosity, 



A Too Short Vacation. 223 

while his children look on smilingly at the 
strange toys. In the Expulsion from Para- 
dise, the wings of the picture are, respect- 
ively, Eve, in whose figure and face one can 
see the first dawn of knowledge, and Satan, 
a magnificent figure, of more than earthly 
beauty, who might just as well be the Arch- 
angel Michael, but for the evil, death-deal- 
ing glance that darts from his terrible eyes. 
The largest, and esteemed the greatest, of 
his pictures, the " Contest for the Body of 
Patroclus," is painted in oils ; but on the 
wall beside it is a detail, painted in the 
distemper which he invented, and which, 
though placed there to prove its superiority, 
fails to do so. It has a dull, rough surface, 
to which is due its greatest advantage — it 
does not reflect the light. 

An inhospitable rain poured upon us on 
our arrival in Antwerp ; so, taking a cab, 
we drove at once to the Museum, hoping 
that, after a few hours spent there, the storm 
would abate. Antwerp worships two heroes, 
Rubens and Quentin Matsys, and their mas- 



224 <A Too Short Vacation. 

terpieces are inshrined here. Rubens's chef- 
d'oeuvre, Christ between the two Thieves 
(Le Coup de Lance), is a marvellous picture. 
No one can realize the truth of that oft- 
repeated saying, that it is impossible to 
know Rubens unless one has seen him 
here, until he stands before this picture. 
We looked at the Pieta of Quentin Matsys 
a long time as we recalled the story of the 
blacksmith who, to win his love, a painter's 
daughter, took up the brush and made him- 
self one of the great of the earth. 

Later, near the principal portal of the 
Cathedral, we saw the canopy of iron, 
erected to protect an old well, and exe- 
cuted by Matsys, the blacksmith, whom 
connubial love made a painter, as the in- 
scription on his tombstone adjoining the 
entrance to the tower of the Cathedral tells 
us. 

The Cathedral, with its beautiful tower 
of " Mechlin Lace," contains the great 
Descent from the Cross. The interesting, 
though not authentic, story is that it was 



A Too Short Vacation. 225 

painted for a guild of arquebusiers, who 
contracted for a picture of St. Christopher, 
the Christ-bearer. Rubens treated the sub- 
ject metaphorically : on one wing, Mary 
bearing Christ before his birth; on the other, 
the Presentation in the Temple ; and then the 
central picture, the Bearing of the Dead 
Body from the Cross. The guild, however, 
refused to accept the picture, on the ground 
that there was no St. Christopher, and, dis- 
gusted with their stupidity, Rubens painted 
on the back of the wings a figure of the 
actual St. Christopher, an owl, and a 
hermit. Most of the figures are portraits, 
and, of course, his favorite models ; his 
wives are prominent characters. The guide, 
whose kindly offices we declined, tried to 
arouse our curiosity by a voluble account, 
begun in stentorian tones, but ending in the 
merest of whispers, of which we caught 
only something about the " fat Mrs. Rubens 
and the tin Mrs. R." 

In the Market-Place, in front of the 
Hotel de Ville, is a bronze fountain sur- 



226 A Too Short Vacation. 

mounted by a statue of Salvio Brabo, a 
hero, who cut off the hand of the giant 
Antigonus. According to the legend, this 
giant used to demand a heavy toll from 
vessels entering the harbor, cutting off and 
throwing into the river the hand of every 
one who refused to pay. Hence the name 
of the city, Antwerp, hand-werpen (werfen, 
to throw). 



X. 

THE chief recollections that we have 
kept of Holland are of windmills, 
some of them with gigantic arms 
sixty feet in length, flat pastures, water 
everywhere, and narrow canals enclosing 
fields and gardens, as fences and hedges do 
with us. We remarked, also, the clean, 
well-scrubbed appearance of everything, 
but we wished that the manners of the 
people had been as polished as — their 
windows, for example. They were abso- 
lutely the rudest people that we encoun- 
tered. You would suppose that they had 
never set eyes on any but a Dutch face 
before. If you were bold enough to stop 
a moment to look at anything in the street 
that interested you, a knot of curious 
people gathered at your back. Yet we 

227 



228 A Too Short Vacation. 

were annoyed with guides, who addressed 
us always in English, commencing with a 
festive and familiar " Say !" In Rotterdam, 
Sanguinelle tried to take a picture of some 
tall, narrow old houses, very much out of 
the perpendicular, a circumstance not un- 
usual, owing to the soft, yielding nature of 
the soil. At the first stage of the opera- 
tion all the people in the vicinity stood 
still, and then began to make slowly to- 
wards us. I induced Sanguinelle to desist, 
and we walked away between a double 
line of heavy-eyed, open-mouthed Rotter- 
damers. But we did succeed in getting one 
or two views of some of the great canals 
that intersect the city, filled with large, 
heavy vessels, mostly from the East Indies. 
The communication between the different 
parts of the city is made by drawbridges, 
or the more curious swing-bridges. 

In the Groote Markt is a bronze statue, 
erected to the illustrious Erasmus, and the 
house in which he was born, in a small 
thoroughfare leading from the Hoogstraat, 



A Too Short Vacation. 229 

is indicated by a small statue and the in- 
scription, " This is a small house, great 
because in it was born Erasmus." 

Sanguinelle said, — 

" We must see the Bompjes." 

" Oh, yes, by all means," I replied, throw- 
ing into my voice and countenance an ex- 
pression of eager longing, artfully intended 
to conceal the fact that I was " struck all of 
a heap" by the Bompjes. I prayed that 
kind chance would open my eyes to the 
true inwardness of these mysterious things 
before Sanguinelle discovered my ignorance. 

Evidently she held them very dear, for, 
guide-book in hand, she searched for them 
industriously, until finally, turning a corner, 
she exclaimed, exultingly, — 

" Yes, I was right. Here it is !" 

Now, I looked up and down that street 
to seize upon any object that might fit in 
with a poor, weary brain's preconceived 
idea of a Bompjes, but I saw only a quay 
stretching along the bank of a river in 
which were anchored a number of heavy 
16 



230 A Too Short Vacation. 

vessels, and along which was planted a row 
of trees. I did not dare ask, after my 
assumption of knowing all about it, and the 
only phrase at all explanatory that she let 
drop was, — 

" The trees give it its name." 




On the road to the Hague we passed 
Schiedam, famous for its schnapps, and 
Delft, likewise famous for its pottery. A 
historical interest surrounds the Prisenhof 
in this city, as the scene of the assassination 
of William of Orange (the Silent). The 



A Too Short Vacation. 231 

spot where the crime was committed is in- 
dicated by an inscription, and the mark 
left by the fatal bullet still pointed out. 

On our arrival at the Hague, we took 
the car at the station for the Vieux Doelen, 
being attracted by its name and the reputa- 
tion that Baedeker gives it of being an old- 
established house. It looked high-priced 
and American (afterwards we learned that 
it was one of the coupon hotels). The por- 
ter evidently regarded our use of the car 
as a sign of poverty instead of intelligence, 
and, consulting his list of rooms, he re- 
gretted that we had not written to engage 
rooms beforehand, as the season at the 
Hague was at its height. We begged him 
not to make himself seriously uneasy about 
that, as we could doubtless succeed in get- 
ting accommodations elsewhere. There- 
upon he had one room to which he showed 
us, and for which we were to pay twelve 
francs. 

" Table d'hote will be served in a half- 
hour," he announced. 



232 A Too Short Vacation. 

" We have already dined." 

" You must dine very early," he remarked. 
We said, — 

" It would be worth while stopping here, 
my friend, to get some valuable hints from 
you as to the correct way of travelling and 
the proper hour for dining, but we are not 
yet sufficiently chastened to accept these 
points in the proper spirit, and so we will 
go on to Scheveningen." 

This little fishing-village is only about 
two miles from the Hague, and may be 
reached by the street-cars, which drive 
through a beautiful road shaded by mag- 
nificent trees. On the right, a magnificent 
park with numerous fine old oaks ; on the 
left, handsome chateaus, one of them the 
property of the Grand Duchess of Weimar. 
No view of the sea is obtained until, pass- 
ing through the village, the top of the 
lofty dunes is reached. We secured a de- 
lightful room at the Hotel Garni, a large 
place with about two hundred rooms, the 
property of a company, for twenty thousand 



A Too Short Vacation. 



233 



visitors come to Scheveningen during the 
season. We could not congratulate our- 
selves enough on finding ourselves in this 
delightful spot, taking a walk on the smooth, 
firm sands, and later, from our window, 
seeing the moon making a long, silvery, 
shivering line of light on the water. 




It is a beautiful place. The great fishing- 
boats (pinken), some of them large enough 
to cross to the shores of Scotland, were 
anchored on the sands. The next day was 
Sunday, and the little Dutch fisher-boys 
were disporting themselves after the manner 



234 A Too Short Vacation. 

of small boys of every land. We took the 
picture of one of them leaning against his 
father's boat, and with a saucy grin on his 
face that took our hearts captive. The 






:; %;i : 



/.IT m 



quaint costume of the villagers and the 
click of their wooden shoes were a constant 
source of delight. 

The beach was covered with a great num- 
ber of strange-looking chairs, which, how- 



A Too Short Vacation. 235 

ever, proved to be very comfortable. They 
protect one both from the sun and the strong 
breeze, and, though light, are firmly made 
and not easily overturned. Five cents en- 




titles you to the use of one for an entire 
morning or the afternoon. Sanguinelle 
leaned her elbow on the little shelf provided 
for it and lost herself in a delicious day- 
dream. She would take a model of the 
delightful chair home, patent the idea, and 
introduce it into our own watering-places. 
A great company would be formed and she 
would grow wealthy. Here she stuck out 
the foot with the patch so conspicuously 
that I was compelled to say, — 

" Sanguinelle, what are you thinking of?" 
" Oh," she said, with a start, " I was 
thinking that I was rich." 

"Well," I remarked, " a glance at your 



236 



A Too Short Vacation. 



foot will, no doubt, make you at least open 
to conviction on the subject." 




The bathing at Scheveningen is done in a 
most decorous way. The bathing-machines 
are similar to those that we saw in use in 
Wales and England. The little sheds are 
drawn to the water's edge by horses, and 
the bather steps at once from his house 
to the concealment of the waves. But in 



A Too Short Vacation. 237 

addition to this, at Scheveningen there is a 
place reserved for women, and no one, not 
even a woman, is allowed to linger there for 
an instant. Not observing the sign to that 



fj| # j ^ 1* .imMMmm* 



effect, we stood for a few seconds, but were 
at once told by an officer to move on. 

We returned to the Hague about noon, 
and went at once to the Gallery and sought 
out Rembrandt's School of Anatomy and 
Paul Potter's Bull. Engravings and photo- 
graphs have made the first familiar to every 
one, but they do not prepare you for the 
effect of the great original. You can 
scarcely help listening for the words of the 
lecturer which must accompany the explan- 
atory gesture of the left hand, and you look 
with the eagerness of a student at the ex- 
posed muscles and sinews of the arm of the 
corpse on the dissecting-table. 



238 A Too Sliort Vacation. 

Paul Potter's Bull is a magnificent animal, 
and very naturally casts into the shade his 
companions in the picture, — a cow, a sheep, 
a lamb, a ram, and the shepherd himself. 
There are many other pictures of the Dutch 
school here, particularly Jan Steen's and 
Gerard Dow's. 

The city itself is the handsomest in Hol- 
land. The streets are broad, the houses 
imposing, and the squares spacious and 
well kept. The Binnenhof is an irregular 
pile of buildings of mediaeval origin, around 
which cluster most of the historical mem- 
ories of the Hague. 

Some of the signs are peculiar. For in- 
stance, a Turk's head means a drug-store. 
Almost all the notices are amusing, from the 
resemblance to the English. Thus, " Det 
huis is to huur" means "this house is 
to let." 

In Amsterdam our hotel fronted on the 
Dam, an open square, the focus of the 
business-life of the city. Opposite was the 
Royal Palace, and on the other side the 



A Too Short Vacation. 239 

handsome Exchange. During a week in 
August and September the Exchange is 
given over as a play-ground for the boys of 
the city. The story is that while some boys 
were playing here in 1600, they discovered 
a conspiracy of the Spaniards against Am- 
sterdam, and ever since this privilege has 
been granted to the children of the citizens 
in commemoration of the service. 

All the houses are built on a founda- 
tion of piles. The upper stratum of the 
natural soil is loose sand, and a firm founda- 
tion must be secured by driving piles into 
the firmer soil beneath. It is said that 
several times the city has been in danger 
from the ravages of the wood-worm. 

The Schreyerstoren (criers' tower) dates 
from 1432, and received its name from the 
tears shed here by persons parting from 
their relatives and friends. We shed a few 
ourselves as we thought of these poor pil- 
grims starting on a sad and perilous jour- 
ney over the yet unknown and mysterious 
ocean, and to a land holding out death in a 



240 A Too Short Vacation. 

hundred ways, — disease, starvation, or the 
tomahawk of the savage, — over that ocean 
which we now cross so gayly to that land 
that we now call home. 




Ryks Museum, the great store-house of 
pictures and art treasure, is closed on Mon- 
day. This was Monday, and Sanguinelle's 
face grew as long as a German word. To 
comfort her, I suggested that maybe a florin 
or two slipped into somebody's hand would 
let us in, just for a glance. We boarded a 
car, and the conductor, finding out our des- 
tination, told us generously that it was closed. 
We thanked him with a superior smile, and 



A Too Short Vacation. 241 

insisted on going. He retreated to the 
back platform, and regarded us with a look 
that said plainly, — 

" Women are queer ones. They don't 
know never where they want to go, and 
you can't help them, you know. You must 
just let them go until they drop off them- 
selves." 

We dropped off at the Ryks Museum and 
found not a hand into which to drop our 
florin, and we had to content ourselves with 
admiring the tasteful wrought-iron railing 
that incloses it. I think myself that it 
was a kind and discerning Providence that 
closed the door to us, for, glancing over 
the contents as described in the cata- 
logue, I am convinced that we should still 
be there, instead of making joyful the 
bosoms of our respective families, as we 
are at present. 

Amsterdam presents to the traveller a 
most unique and picturesque appearance. 
The wide and deep canals that intersect the 
city divide it into ninety islands, connected 



242 A Too Short Vacation. 

by three hundred bridges. To prevent 
malaria, the water is constantly renewed by 
an arm of the North Sea Canal, while the 




mud is removed by dredges. Most of the 
canals are planted with avenues of elms, 
and bordered with handsome rows of houses 
of Dutch brick. The only modern-looking 
thing that we saw — and that took away our 
breath — was on one of the little ferry-boats 
crossing a canal, painted in large letters, — 

" Hecker's Buckwheat!" 

We visited a diamond-cutting establish- 
ment, the city still being famous for this 
art, the knowledge of which for centuries 



A Too Short Vacation. 243 

was confined to the Jews here and in Ant- 
werp. We did not succeed in concealing 
one of the precious things, nor did they 
succeed in forcing us to buy. Later, at 
Antwerp, we made a small investment which 
forced the seller (he complained) to do with- 
out meat for a week, and which won us the 
compliment from a reputable dealer here of 
being the first ladies, to his knowledge, who 
had procured a bona fide bargain. 

We made an excursion from Amster- 
dam to Zaandam, to see the hut of Peter 
the Great. The town itself is said to be 




inhabited chiefly by millionaires, although 
the small houses surrounded by gardens 
are generally only a story or two high. 



244 A Too Short Vacation. 

The landscape is enlivened by four hundred 
windmills ! Another remarkable thing is 
that this small town covers an area equal in 
extent to the State of Pennsylvania ! At 
least, I am convinced that we walked that 
much in looking for Peter's hut. We tried 
on the natives, without avail, every sort of 
language and every left-over piece of lan- 
guage that our tongues had ever lisped. 
At least, I did, for Sanguinelle had given 
up the quest in despair, and said that " she 
wasn't going to play." I left out the " hut," 
and "where," and such trifling words, and 
rung the changes on " Peter," " Peter der 
Groote," holding my hand a yard above my 
head. A dull stare was my only reward, 
and the figure escaped. " Peter der Grosse," 
I say, standing on tip-toe and opening my 
eyes wide, hoping to give the impression 
of bigness. No. 2, a small boy, yells and 
flees. Sanguinelle sarcastically inquires if 
I am under the impression that it was 
Peter's physical proportions that won him 
the title of Great. Without heeding her, I 



A Too Short Vacation. 245 

tried " Pierre le Grand" on the next victim. 
He replied, — 

" Met Vragen komt mon to Rome." 
Now, this was enough to discourage one, 
particularly when Sanguinelle laughed anew 
at every fresh failure. However, my am- 
bition was not so easily subdued, and I 
attacked the next comer, a tall and dig- 
nified gentleman, with " Peter der Groote." 
After a moment's pause, he broke out 
with, — 

" Ah, vous cherchez la petite maison de 
Pierre le Grand ? Oui, oui, je vous la mon- 
trerai," but first would we not like to inspect 
his school ? 

Now here was a triumph, to be taken for 
a Frenchwoman ! It is true that I had not 
addressed him in that language, and like- 
wise that he spoke it falteringly himself; 
but still I felt gratified, especially when, 
after giving us an opportunity to admire 
his school, of which he was very proud, he 
conducted us gallantly to the hut of Peter 
the Great. It is a rude structure, consisting 
17 



246 A Too Short Vacation. 

of two rooms and a bed-closet, protected 
now by a roof supported by pillars of brick. 
Peter the Great occupied this hut while 
working as a ship-carpenter in the yard of 
a master-builder, with the view of learning 
the art and teaching it to his people. He 
assumed the dress of a workman and the 
name of Peter Michaelof, but he did not 
escape recognition, and was so pestered by 
the curiosity of his idle neighbors that in 
a few weeks he left his hut, returned to 
Amsterdam, and pursued his works in the 
ship-yards there. It was some satisfaction 
to know that the illustrious Peter made the 
same complaint against the Dutch that we 
have. In the interior a marble slab bear- 
ing the inscription, " Petro Magno — Alex- 
ander," is placed over the chimney-piece, 
commemorative of the visit of the Emperor 
Alexander in 18 14. The means now taken 
to preserve the hut are by the orders of the 
Emperor of Russia. 

The following day we returned to Ant- 
werp, and hunted up our various parcels, 



A Too Short Vacation. 247 

preparatory to going on board for the return 
voyage. This took but little time, for we 




found that everything sent to our name 
had arrived. The company had but one 
name, — Sanguinelle's, — barbarous tongues 
not being able to master the delicate intrica- 
cies of mine. We thus had several hours to 
spare, with nothing in particular to fill them. 
"And they might just as well have been 
spent in Ryks Museum," said Sanguinelle, 
bitterly, looking at me resentfully. I felt 
guilty, and offered no defence, for I had 



248 A Too Short Vacation. 

insisted on coming back in time to look 
after the parcel from London, the box from 
Paris, and the trunks from Liverpool. 

" And if they have not arrived, you pro- 
pose to go to these various points to secure 
them. I see now how useful these few 
hours may be. Let us go, by all means." 

We almost had strained relations again, 
Sanguinelle takes one up so short like. 
But we quickly forgot our momentary 
displeasure in the consideration of our 
common regret that at last it was all over 
and we must return. We were sorry. 
Sorry that our tramp was ended, and that 
we must break into a " measured pace and 
slow." Sorry to turn our backs on the 
unaccustomed and take up again the usual. 
Sorry to say good-by to Freedom and 
Variety and Pleasure, and all that family 
pronounced fascinating but dangerous, and 
turn to their sisters, Restraint and Mo- 
notony and Duty, pronounced slow but 
salutary. It was not the proper spirit, per- 
haps, but then this is a truthful chronicle. 



APPENDIX 



Two questions, all-important to the trav- 
eller's comfort, we feel that we have success- 
fully solved, — How shall one dress ? What 
is the minimum to which luggage may be 
reduced consistent with comfort ? 

Imprimis, the costume. — A union suit of 
wool ; a divided skirt, gathered into an 
elastic band below the knee ; stockings ; 
broad-soled, spring-heeled shoes; a soft 
felt or cloth walking-hat, with no feathers 
or flowers to become melancholy or be- 
draggled-looking ; a dress of genuine Scotch 
cheviot, the skirt supported by a light 
cambric waist ; a shirt of silk and one of 
wool ; a three-quarters length coat of the 
style known as a reefer. No corsets, no 
petticoats. In the dark linen bag, our only 

249 



250 Appendix. 

luggage after we left the steamer, were for 
each a gauze shirt and a cambric chemi- 
sette, for hot weather (which we did not 
encounter) ; four pairs of stockings (half of 
them silk and half of them wool) ; an extra 
union suit, two night-gowns, some hand- 
kerchiefs, toilet appliances, film for our 
camera, and, for emergencies, a bottle of 
cognac. In all the larger hotels there are 
immense drying-rooms, so that it is possible 
to give out washing at night and get it the 
next noon. I am sure that we were never 
uncomfortable. No one who has not suf- 
fered from it can imagine the nuisance and 
expense of a trunk abroad. In Switzerland, 
Italy, and Southern Germany, every pound 
of it has to be paid for, which often means 
a half added to the cost of the ticket. In 
Great Britain no check is given, and often 
one has to wait for the weighing and fee 
the weigher, even if there is nothing else 
to pay. We took mackintoshes and re- 
gretted it. A hood, attached to a short 
cape, such as our dowager and the London 



Appendix. 2 5 1 

policemen wore, is an equal protection and 
infinitely more portable. 

We were plentifully supplied with pock- 
ets, — one for copper and nickel coins, 
another for the small silver, and a third 
deep one for everything else. It is an 
immense simplification of the fee nuisance 
to be able to lay one's hand on the proper 
coin. Fees, let me say in passing, we got 
down to a fine point. To guides (we had 
but one, by the way), drivers, and the like, 
we gave one-tenth of the regular charge 
additional. To the chambermaid, about 
ten cents, and to the waiter, if he had been 
very attentive, — he generally was, — about 
twenty cents, for a stay of a few days. The 
porter we did not often fee, for, since we 
had no luggage, there was nothing that he 
could do for us. He often tried, though, 
and many were the discarded gloves or 
rubbers that we were obliged to refuse. 
Fifty centimes, a sixpence, or a fifty -pfennig 
piece go a great way abroad, and it is 
astonishing to hear Americans, who fee at 



252 Appendix. 

home, and much more liberally than they 
need to in Europe, complain of the system. 

The rule at restaurants is a sou for each 
franc, a penny for the shilling, and five 
pfennigs for the mark. But no one gives 
less than two sous, a penny, or a ten-pfen- 
nig piece, nor is the waiter apt to receive 
more than fifty centimes or pfennigs, or a 
sixpence. The foreign equivalent for two 
cents is the usual fee for small services, such 
as the handing of one's luggage to the 
cab. The drain on one's purse is constant, 
but it is also regular and just. I can re- 
member giving no fee, however small, that 
was not deserved. 

Our three months' trip, including every 
expense from the time that we left Phila- 
delphia until we returned to it, cost three 
hundred and fifty dollars. It is possible 
to go for much less; indeed, we have done 
it ourselves. But I doubt if any one else 
could do the same thing in the same way 
for less. We were travelling constantly, 
visiting over fifty different places, and went 



Appendix. 253 

always to a hotel, never to a pension. The 
latter is cheaper, of course ; but no number 
of dollars saved would make up to us for 
the wear and tear of being obliged to say 
" good-morning," at least, and generally 
going through with the conventional and 
meaningless chatter of the table when we 
did not feel in the mood for it. 

Our morning coffee or chocolate and rolls 
with butter, honey, or jam, we ate in our 
own room. Lunch and dinner we took 
wherever we chose. Lunch was usually 
steak or omelettes, or some appetizing fancy 
dish, a fine vegetable and potatoes, and des- 
sert or fruit. But when we were walking 
we found it impossible to take more 
than a sandwich and a glass of wine or 
beer. We avoided the dismal table d'hote 
as much as we could, both because of the 
oppressive silence that it necessitated, 
watched as one is by all the other partici- 
pants in that solemn function, and because 
we liked to choose what we would eat. But 
we always had a regular dinner, — soup, fish, 



254 Appendix. 

entree, joint or game, vegetables, and des- 
serts. Both for lunch and dinner we had 
a bottle of good wine, sometimes Johan- 
nisberger, sometimes Champagne, though 
oftener a good Bordeaux or Rhine wine. 
Except in Paris we never thought of drink- 
ing vin ordinaire. We are not wine-drink- 
ers at home, but we had no desire to be 
made sick by our devotion to temperance 
principles, and the water is said to be 
bad. Certainly its taste is not reassuring, 
and the addition of a little sour wine does 
not make it any better. 

In Paris we patronized the dinners a prix 
fixe, and found the better class of them to 
be as cheap as table d'hote, or cheaper, 
and infinitely better, because more private 
(we always had to ourselves a particular 
table overlooking the gardens of the Palais 
Royal), because one was permitted to choose 
what one wished, and because, too, there 
was less restriction in regard to the hour. 
The Duval restaurants (a la carte) are very 
popular on account of their supposed 



Appendix. 255 

cheapness, their pretty waitresses, with neat 
white caps and aprons over a black dress, 
and because it is a recognized fact that 
unattended ladies may safely venture in. 
They are not really cheap, however, for they 
serve always a small portion, barely suffi- 
cient for one. 

It is generally possible to get a good 
room, in any of the good hotels not fre- 
quented by coupon-holders and the Ameri- 
can public generally, for about two and a 
half francs a night each person. But it is 
necessary to ask for it, otherwise you will 
be given the six-franc apartment that even 
the most unpretentious inn has in store for 
the unwary. When we intended stopping 
in a place more than a day or two, we wrote 
on for terms to two or more hotels which, 
according to Baedeker, seemed to suit our 
purse and tastes, and even when we stayed 
but the night we regretted it on the few 
occasions that we did not ask the price 
beforehand. On the mountains, of course, 
it was not possible to get a room with a 



256 Appendix. 

view for much less than five or six francs 
apiece, but then it was always worth it. 

Our passage, first cabin, of course, going 
on the " City of Berlin" and returning by 
the Red Star Line, was one hundred and 
four dollars and fifty cents. The fees 
amounted to about five dollars more. Our 
travelling expenses were over eighty dollars, 
and would have been much greater had we 
not taken advantage of the cheap circular- 
tickets whenever they suited our plans, 
which was not very often, after all, and we 
were not travelling to save money exactly. 
It would have cost us much more, too, if 
we had ridden and taken guides, but we 
did neither. Our living expenses were 
about two dollars a day, and the rest went 
for guide-books, theatre, 'bus fares, cabs, 
fess, and postage. 

Our itinerary is about as follows, though 
we did not stay so long in either London 
or Paris, for we had been there before, nor 
did we stop a second time at some of the 
German cities mentioned : 



Appendix. 257 

Queenstown, up the river Lee to Black- 
rock, thence by rail to Cork, one day. 
Cork, one day. Ride from Bandon, via 
Bantry, to Glengariff, one day, and at least 
a day should be spent there. The drive to 
Killarney takes another day, and at least 
two days should be given to the lakes. 
There is a night express to Dublin, and 
sleepers are moderate in price in Great 
Britain. Dublin and its excursions, two 
days. Night boat to Holyhead. Morning 
train to Chester through Northern Wales, a 
region so beautiful that only those who are 
pressed for time can resist the temptation to 
stop, at least, at Conway. Chester the rest 
of the day. Stratford, one day. The walk 
from Stratford, visiting Charlcote on the 
way, about twelve miles, to Warwick, one 
day. Warwick, and the five-mile walk to 
Kenilworth, one day. Kenilworth, and to 
Oxford, one day. Oxford, at least two 
days. London, two weeks. To Canter- 
bury, including the stay there, one day. To 
Paris, including a few hours at Amiens, one 



258 Appendix. 

day. Paris, not less than three weeks. The 
evening train from Paris reaches Geneva 
the next morning, and that day is enough 
for that city. The Sallanches route to 
Chamouni which we took is not worth the 
while, if one has the time to go to Martigny 
and walk over the Col de Balme, two days. 
It is the excursions that make Chamouni 
interesting. We stayed there three days, 
returning to it from each trip ; but another 
time we would visit the Glacier des Bossons 
in the morning, ascend Montanvert in the 
afternoon, and remain there for the night. 
Next day, cross the Mer de Glace, descend 
the Mauvais Pas to the Chapeau, ascend 
the Flegere, and there spend the night. The 
next day, descend and walk to the Tete 
Noire to spend the night. Return to Cha- 
telard, and follow the Salvan road to Ver- 
nayaz, one day. Steamer, stopping suffi- 
ciently long at Chillon and Vevay, to Lau- 
sanne, one day. To Freiburg, including a 
short stay, and to Bern, one day. Bern, 
one day. Interlaken and its excursions, 



Appendix. 259 

including Giessbach, three days. Lauter- 
brunnen and Miirren, one day. Walk to 
the Wengern Alp, one day. Walk to 
Grindelwald, visit to its glaciers, and a part 
of the walk to Meyringen, one day. Walk 
to the Rosenlaui Glacier, Reichenbach Falls, 
to Meyringen, one day. Walk to the Grim- 
sel, one day. Walk to the Rhone Glacier, 
over the Furka, Andermatt, to Goschenen, 
one day. Train to Fliielen, walk on the 
Axenstrasse to Tellsplatte, and Rutli, boat 
to Lucerne, one day. Lucerne, one day ; 
ascend the Rigi that evening. Zug and 
Zurich, one day. Falls of the Rhine, and 
to Strassburg, one day. Strassburg, one 
day. Baden and Heidelberg, a day each. 
Frankfort, two days. Wiesbaden, a day. 
One can go down the Rhine in a single 
day, and have time to see Cologne, after 
a fashion, by taking the train to Bingen, 
the boat to Bonn, and the train to Cologne. 
It is a waste of time to go by boat more 
than from Bingen to Bonn, but, of course, 
a walking trip between these points is the 



260 Appendix. 

only thing that will leave one with any more 
than a hazy remembrance of vineyards, 
castles, and hills. Brussels, three days. 
Antwerp, one day, and Rotterdam, the 
Hague, Scheveningen, and Amsterdam, the 
same. 

If one has the strength of mind to omit 
Bern, he can go from Martigny to Visp 
and Zermatt, thence over the Gemmi to In- 
terlaken, ascending the Niesen en route. 

For two hundred dollars one can spend 
a profitable two months abroad, using the 
same steamers : 

Round-trip ticket $104 50 

Fees and chairs 6 00 

Hotel bills (35 days on land) . . 70 00 
Second-class travel 20 00 

Total $200 50 

Liverpool to Chester, Stratford, Kenil- 
worth, and Warwick ; Woodstock (Blen- 
heim), one day each. Oxford, two days. 
London, ten days. To Paris, stopping at 
Rouen, one day. Paris, thirteen days. 



Appendix. 261 

Brussels, two days. Antwerp, one day. 
Third-class tickets would save one only 
about five dollars. A four-days' trip 
through Holland (Rotterdam, the Hague, 
Scheveningen, Amsterdam, and return to 
Antwerp) costs about five dollars for the 
railway fare. One may land at Queens- 
town, go up the river Lee to Black rock, 
thence to Cork, thence by coach to Glen- 
gariff, to Dublin, Holyhead, Conway, to 
Chester, with a week more time. The 
travelling expenses come to about eleven 
dollars more. British hotels are more ex- 
pensive than those on the Continent. 

For about two hundred and twenty-five 
dollars one may take a six weeks' to two 
months' trip to Scotland and England : 

"City of Rome" to Glasgow . . $120 00 
Fees and keeping luggage ... 6 00 

Railway tickets 30 00 

Hotel bills 67 00 

Total $223 00 

But by walking and third-class fares one 
18 



262 Appendix. 

may save from eight to ten dollars. The 
fare on the smaller steamers of the same 
line is ten dollars less, and there is a line 
landing at the same place whose rates 
are fifty-five dollars less for the round 
trip ! 

Glasgow to Keswick, one day. Keswick 
to Grasmere (beautiful walk), Ambleside, 
Windermere, and to Chester, one week. 
Stratford, Warwick, etc., as before. Lon- 
don to York, one day. Edinboro' (in- 
cluding Melrose), three days. Through 
the Trosachs to Glasgow, two days. 

For about one dollar and eighty cents 
one may go from Glasgow to Ayr (Burns's 
country) and return. Glasgow to Oban 
and return, cost about five dollars, one day. 
Oban to Staffa and Iona and return, one 
day, about four dollars and twenty-five 
cents. Oban to Glencoe and return, one 
day, about the same cost. Oban to Inverness, 
via the Caledonian Canal, one day (better 
two), two dollars and twenty-five cents. 
Inverness to Edinboro', five dollars. One 



Appendix. 263 

may land at Londonderry, too, and, with 
three days' extra time, visit the Causeway, 
Belfast to Glasgow, eight dollars. 

A tour through Germany and Austria 
costs about fifty dollars, and takes about 
sixty days on land, — which makes a three 
months' trip cost only about three hun- 
dred dollars. The small German inns 
are exquisitely clean and extremely low- 
priced. 

Hamburg, two days. Berlin and Pots- 
dam, five days. Leipzig, two days. Dres- 
den, three days. Walk through Saxon 
Switzerland, three days. Prague, two days. 
Vienna, ten days. Walking tour via Salz- 
burg, through the Austrian Tyrol, a week. 
Munich, three days. Nuremberg, two days. 
Heidelberg, one day. Darmstadt and Frank- 
fort, three days. Wiesbaden, one day. 
Down the Rhine, two days. Cologne, one 
day. Brussels, three days. Paris, ten days. 
The German lines stop at Havre and 
Southampton. To go to London and re- 
turn costs from twelve to seventeen dol- 



264 Appendix. 

lars additional. Going from Dresden to 
Baireuth, and thence to Nuremberg, makes 
the travelling expenses about twenty-five 
dollars less. 



THE END. 



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